


ain't no rest for the wicked

by LazuliQuetzal



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Original Character-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 114,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6990559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazuliQuetzal/pseuds/LazuliQuetzal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hayakawa Mori is ANBU cannon fodder; he has never expected to survive anything truly devastating. So when the Kyuubi breaks free and takes control of Uzumaki Naruto, he's not surprised that he ends up dead.<br/>What he is surprised about is that somehow, he accidentally kills the Uzumaki brat in the process -- and the Kyuubi is <i>not</i> happy about it.</p>
<p>(And naturally, Hayakawa Mori gets to go back in time.)</p>
<p>_____</p>
<p>OC-centric, but canon characters will be playing major roles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kyuubi, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY.
> 
> I was feeling nostalgic the other day, and rewatched a few of my favorite Naruto episodes, and then got sucked into Naruto fanfiction. Which of course led to me reading _time-travel_ fanfiction, because I'm a huge sucker for both time travel and cliches. Fight me.
> 
> And then I thought: what if instead of sending back a canon character, we send back some ANBU cannon fodder and pop some popcorn? I was just going to scribble down a quick and entertaining one-shot, but then! Then it got serious! Then I got attached! And now it has a whole ton of words and a plot and a storyline that I really, really want to finish! Wow.
> 
> RIP.

It's every nightmare he's had at once. The trees are gone, knocked over and burnt to a crisp. The rooftops of Konoha are burning. Dead bodies litter the ground, and even from underneath his mask, the smell of burnt flesh fills his nose.

And throughout it all, all Hayakawa Mori can think is that they should have killed the demon brat when they had the chance.

He adjusts the pig mask pulled over his face and follows the trail of destruction. The sight is achingly familiar -- he remembers the first Kyuubi attack long ago, when the Yondaime gave his life to seal the demon away into a baby boy.

He wasn’t ANBU then. Back then, Mori had been a sixteen year old chuunin, busy with taking C-ranks, and the occasional B-rank to help his family out with finances. He’d grown up in a war, and was only just getting used to the idea of peacetime. He’d been looking forward to it: to the rest and the idea that he didn’t _have_ to accept missions if he didn’t want to. He had wanted to be able to slow down and rest, to have a _choice_. He and his old genin team, all Chuunins by then, had spent much of their time together, on and off duty. His younger brother was just about to be promoted to genin.

And then the Kyuubi happened.

It was a disaster, and back then they’d had two great seal masters on hand -- one of them being the _Yellow Flash_. This time, they have the old man Sandaime and a couple of rapidly shrinking ANBU squads. Mori can only hope that there's still some other way to kill the beast.

“You go left, I go right?”

Mori shakes away the memories and glances over at Hyuuga Yuko, the bird mask over her face dark and smeared with soot. Her ANBU uniform is torn in several places, smoking in others. Mori’s certain that his looks no better.

This is familiar, too. The two of them, standing over a broken and burning village. Survivors.

“A two-man pinning maneuver?” Mori responds, almost incredulously.

Even with the mask on, he can feel Yuko glaring at him. “You’ve got a better idea?”

He doesn’t. They’re the last two ninjas left in their squad, and he’s pretty sure that the others in the squad ahead of them are done for. But really, it wouldn’t matter.

They’re two mortals against an out-of-control jinchuuriki. All they can do is buy time before someone on a higher level than them can do something more decisive.

“I think our only hope is to kill the kid,” Yuko says, turning her attention to the red, glowing figure before them. “The Kyuubi hasn't _completely_ escaped. Yet.”

“Alright,” Mori says. Yuko’s general knowledge of seals is better than his. If she says it'll work, well…

It's not like they have any other choice.

“Good luck,” Mori says, and he gets a solemn nod from Yuko in turn.

It’s not a goodbye, but it might as well be one.

With the synchronization of fellow warriors who have worked together for years, Yuko and Mori split up and attempt to corner the Kyuubi. The young boy in front of them is enveloped in dark red chakra trapped in the glowing shape of a fox. Four, no -- five tails of chakra wave around in the air as Uzumaki Naruto knocks over a row of trees with his bare hands.

Mori bites his lip and takes hold of what is probably the last kunai he’ll ever throw.

 _For Konoha,_ he thinks.

He flings the kunai. It lands just to the right of the jinchuuriki, and just as he planned, the demon turns around and roars at him.

He leaps from the tree he’d been standing in, and not a second too soon, because the Kyuubi blasts that tree to bits.

Mori leaps from one burning tree to the next, barely avoiding the blasts of corrosive chakra shooting through the air. His heart races, praying to any god he can think of that somehow all this leaping around will give Yuko some sort of opening.

All they need is one well-placed hit, and the demon would be gone for good.

He sees a blur of white somewhere behind the trees, so he lets out a feral yell, desperate to hold the demon's attention. Kyuubi turns on him, claws extended, and he holds his breath, ready to face his fate.

It doesn't come.

Something had tipped off the demon to their plan. The next sound Mori is aware of is the final, high pitched scream of Hyuuga Yuko -- her familiar, smooth voice twisted into a painful screech that makes Mori want to claw his ears out.

He can see her before him, her dark wispy hair blown out of its normal ponytail. The mask is cracked, chipped off the side so that he can only see one of her white eyes widened in surprise. And worst of all, a bloodied, clawed hand coated in red chakra is sticking out of her dirty white vest.

“No!” he yells, his throat burning with smoke and pain. Kyuubi withdraws its hand out of her gut, and Yuko coughs, blood splattering out of her mouth. Fruitlessly, Mori tries to reach Yuko, attempting to rush to her broken and bleeding body lying on the forest floor. She’s the last family he has left, the only one left of his original genin team. And just like the others, she fell to the Kyuubi.

The Kyuubi turns on him, four limbs sprawled out along the ground and ready to pounce. The only thing standing between him and his friend.

 _We should have killed you,_ he thinks.

Uzumaki Naruto, perhaps, wasn't the demon, but they should have never infected a  _child_ with the Kyuubi no Kitsune.

Rage pouring out of him, Mori rushes in. Never mind the fact he doesn't have a weapon or a plan or a jutsu that could possibly work against a bijuu. This is part revenge and part death wish, he's aware, and he feels the world blur around him as he tries to step forward and kill the damn thing.

It isn't really a surprise when a clawed hand grasps his throat and squeezes.

A growl arises from the throat that used to be Uzumaki Naruto’s, low and feral and inhuman. Mori's mind takes him back to _that_ night, a bitter and dark dusk seeing Konoha in flames and his family lying dead under a burning building.

In a fruitless attempt at defiance, he glares down at the Kyuubi, hoping that the demon can sense his anger and guilt and all the other feelings that make up his rage against the fox.

Glowing red eyes gaze back at him, and his head throbs from the lack of oxygen and the pure, unfiltered _hatred_ being sent his way.

 _Feeling's mutual_ , he wants to say, but his throat is burning and already there's blood dripping down his neck.

Kyuubi tightens its grip. The claws dig in, the malevolent chakra seeps in through the wounds, and Mori writhes in pain. His eyes screw shut and his face feels like it's about to explode. There's a roaring in his ears as the life trickles out of his body. His lungs scream in desperation. Another bone is crushed under the Kyuubi grip.

Unbidden, disjointed memories float through his head.

Graduation from the Academy. During wartime, they'd put everyone on the fast track, needing every shinobi they could get. He remembers his horrible first impressions of his team, the attempts to impress their cool and unflappable sensei. Faces swim before his eyes.

Shima Ryuu. The low voice of his sensei, lecturing him on proper taijutsu form, quizzing him on the details of a mission. His advice floats into his head: _The people are Konoha, and Konoha comes first._

Masuko Aya. His other teammate, light brown hair framing a forever laughing face. His heart aches for her fiery voice and unwavering determination, whispering charged words in his ear. _Never compromise. Do what it takes._

And finally, Hyuuga Yuko’s voice sounds through his head. White eyes that used to be so cold but slowly shifted into something _more_. A warrior's gaze, Aya would say -- tinged with steel and brimming with confidence. He remembers the loss they'd bore together, the remnants of Team 14.

Smooth and steely, her words mingle with the others.

 _Konoha comes first,_ says Ryuu-sensei. _Do what it takes,_ comes Aya’s fierce voice.

And Yuko’s smooth voice falls on him like water, a small, inconsequential piece of information.

_The most devastating tenketsu point is right at the top of the sternum._

Mori digs up every last bit of strength, gathers chakra into his foot, and _swings._

His foot connects with something, and with what little consciousness he has left, Mori pulses his chakra out, praying that _something_ has happened.

His vision goes black. He can't tell if he's in the Kyuubi’s grip or lying on the floor. He can't tell if what he's hearing is shouting or if it's the roar of the forest fire.

But he died in service of his village. It doesn't make the pain go away, but it's something.

* * *

It's not quite _waking up_ or _coming to_ , but Mori does suddenly feel _aware._ He's standing in a dirty field. When he looks around, it's a broken and ruined training ground -- earth littered with holes, burning patches of grass, a crumbling and smoking forest.

**About time.**

The words aren't spoken so much as _heard_. They rumble through his head. It's a voice more ancient than anything Mori has encountered, with weight and power stacked behind those two words.

Mori turns around and spots a giant nine tailed fox.

“Holy fuck,” he shrieks. His hands fly up in front of him in an attempt to form a Katon jutsu, but even when he makes the hand seals, nothing happens.

The fox only tilts its head, leveling a disdainful gaze at the ANBU.

**Yes. I think you'll do.**

Mori by now has realized many things: that he can't do any jutsu, that he doesn't have any weapons, and that he's supposed to be dead -- killed at the claws of the Kyuubi no Kitsune.

“ _Kai,_ ” he says, raising his hands up.

Nothing happens.

**Anything you try to do is useless.**

The voice is tinged with annoyance and irritation. Mori suddenly feels a sinking in his gut.

“Are you talking to _me?_ ” he demands, backing away from the fox.

The fox bares its teeth and leans in. **Believe me, mortal, I wouldn't be doing this if I had a choice.**

“Fuck off and let me die!” Mori yells, past the point of fear and just wanting to _finish_ already. “I don't want anything to do with you!”

Immediately, he knows that was the wrong thing to say. The fox, for lack of a better word, flares. The killing intent hanging in the air spikes, and Mori’s probably imaginary heartbeat skips a beat.

 **Shut up, you useless trash. I didn't give you a choice** , it growls. **I don't like it either, but like it or not, we need each other at the moment.**

Mori is choking on his own fear. He'd never felt something so _malevolent_ and _powerful_ before. His hands tremble as he attempts to steady his breathing.

 _Never compromise_ , Aya says in his head, and he struggled to muster up false bravado.

“Why the _hell_ would I need you?” Mori snaps out, though it comes out more desperate and defensive than defiant.

 **Because I can save your pathetic family,** the fox says.

And suddenly, Mori’s rage against the Kyuubi stills.

 

Q

 

Kyuubi says a lot of things. Mori hates himself for it, but he listens, gradually letting his guard down and taking in information. Mori has always been the cautious one, preferring to gather as much information as he can and using it to his advantage. It's what kept him alive, all throughout the war and through ANBU and every other suicide mission he'd ever taken. And this is no different, he tells himself, as he grasps onto a feeble hope that _somehow_ the Kyuubi can bring his family back.

Kyuubi says this: that when Mori aimed for the fatal tenketsu point on Uzumaki Naruto, the chakra he expelled triggered a kill switch in the seal on Uzumaki's stomach. A failsafe in case the Kyuubi ever broke free -- that if a Konoha shinobi ever activated this trigger, the Uzumaki Naruto would die and take the Kyuubi with him.

Somehow, through sheer luck, Mori actually ended up finishing his mission and killed the jinchuuriki.

“We're still here, though,” Mori says, disbelief and suspicion lining his voice. “Wherever here is.”

 **I'm getting to that,** Kyuubi growls. **When you kicked my host, some of your chakra mingled with mine, and vice versa.**

Mori chokes on air. “... What?!” he splutters. “Get it out!”

 **Calm yourself** , Kyuubi hisses. **It's only a small amount, nothing of consequence. If anything, you should be _grateful_ to have interacted with my chakra -- **

“I don't fucking care,” Mori snaps. “I killed you. I did my job, I protected my village.”

 **On the contrary** , Kyuubi drawls, managing to sound threatening and arrogant and disdainful all in one, **in one move, you just doomed Konoha.**

Mori stills.

 **Believe it or not,** **_I_ ** **am not the greatest threat to your pathetic village** , Kyuubi says, obviously enjoying Mori’s silent fuming. **I am certainly the most powerful, the most malevolent -- but I am not as invested in wiping you vermin out of existence as you think. You mean nothing to me.**

“You destroyed this village twice.” Mori clenches his fists and grits his teeth.

 **Whether or not you believe me, that doesn't change the fact that I am necessary to the survival of your little hovel,** the Kyuubi dismisses his statement. **I have been imprisoned in this godforsaken hovel for generations. Many jinchuuriki have tapped into my power to protect this pathetic excuse of a town. Uzumaki Naruto is just the latest in a line of Konoha jinchuuriki. Konoha wouldn't survive a year without someone stealing my chakra to protect it.**

“That doesn't make sense,” Mori says immediately. “We've never had a jinchuuriki before Uzumaki.”

 **You think** _**you** _ **would have been trusted with that information?** The Kyuubi chuckles darkly. **How arrogant. But I digress -- there's an evil coming, one more focused on the destruction of your deplorable village than I. And my power is the only thing that can stop it.**

“How would you know?” Mori asks. “You're as dead as I am.”

 **I am the greatest of the bijuu,** the Kyuubi snarls. **My power is too great for you puny mortals to even _begin_ to comprehend. I know all. I see all. I am not bound by your delusions of time. **

“You're bound by a twelve-year-old,” Mori mutters, but he finds himself cowering in fear as the killing intent in the air flares once more, sending a spike of terror stabbing into his heart. Mori clutches his chest and tries to breathe.

 **I would be careful with my words, if I were you,** the Kyuubi purrs. **Now listen to me, filth.**

Mori’s hands tremble and he remains silent as the fox continues to speak.

 **That small bit of my chakra in you is what is prolonging your passing,** Kyuubi says. **It's also a bridge between you and me. Uzumaki Naruto is dead, but you are only** **_nearly_ ** **dead. If it weren't for this, I'd have dispersed to the wind and would have to wait another ten thousand years to form.**

Mori bites his tongue and waits for the fox to get to the point.

**But while you and I still have consciousness, I can ward your soul against the Shinigami.**

“Ward my soul?” Mori echoes, confused.

 **Essentially, it will protect your soul from passing on,** Kyuubi elaborates. **The only way you'll be able to pass on is through a natural death.**

That sounds _way_ too good to be true. Ninjas  _don't_ die natural deaths. Ninjas are taken out brutally and violently. Mori has never expected to live past the age of thirty.

“What's the catch?”

 **It's not immortality. You can be killed. In fact, you** **_will_ ** **be killed. But rather than moving on, you will instead loop back to some undetermined point in time and live it out again.**

Mori blinks. “The _fuck_?”

 **You will have the chance to change the circumstances that led to your death,** Kyuubi says. **In this case, you will have a chance to either prevent me from getting loose or kill me in a way that preserves your life. Though I _highly_ doubt you'd find a way to do the latter. **

“Why would you give this to me?” Mori demands. “What do you get out of it?”

 **Survival** , Kyuubi answers. **As long as I'm sealed into this godforsaken cage, my life force is tied to his. I send you back, and you save Uzumaki Naruto -- and you save me.**

“You're assuming that I’ll actually be saving Uzumaki,” Mori says with a frown. In all honesty, he didn't believe whatever crap the fox had said about 'future dangers'. In his memory, the single greatest threat to Konoha was the Kyuubi no Kitsune, and based on what the fox said, all he would have to do is kill Uzumaki Naruto and then the threat would be gone.

The Kyuubi chuckles. **You'll save Uzumaki Naruto -- of that I have no doubt.**

 _Yeah, right,_ Mori thinks, but then he moves his thoughts to the rest of the plan.

The fox said it'll get survival. But there’s more to it than that, Mori’s certain. He's talking to an ancient demon, known for its hatred and deception. Whatever he does, the Kyuubi certainly has a plan -- and Mori does _not_ want to be responsible for saving the very thing that murdered his entire family.

 _But,_ some treacherous part of him thinks, _they won't be dead._

As if sensing his wavering resolve, the Kyuubi speaks up. **You realize what type of power this gives you.**

“Yes,” Mori says. “But I don't realize what power this gives _you._ ”

 **That is irrelevant,** Kyuubi dismisses his concern. **I won't do anything to hurt my host.**

“And what about the village?” Mori says. He narrows his eyes.

 **Unfortunately, this child is still naive enough to** \-- Kyuubi’s lips curl in disgust -- _**love** _ **this miserable hellhole. Kami only knows how -- they hated him enough to make anyone want revenge. But as long as Uzumaki Naruto desires to protect Konoha, my chakra is a slave to this village.**

It doesn't _quite_ answer Mori’s question, but it's the closest thing he knows he'll get. And the longer he thinks about it, the more sense this makes.

He's not in ANBU for nothing. He certainly has the skill and the discretion needed to pull off changing the future. But even though he's technically ‘elite’, he also knows that he's ANBU cannon fodder. They'll throw him and his squad at every major threat, and he knows he's not on the same level as, say, Hatake Kakashi. He doesn’t have the skill to survive every battle, but that won't matter because then he'll know how to change it and prevent it.

Hell, depending on how far he'll go back, he'll know how to change and prevent _everything_.

But there's one glaring drawback to this plan, and it's the fact that he doesn't know what the Kyuubi gets out of this. The advantage to the Kyuubi must be _very_ large if it's willing to ward the soul of some random Konoha shinobi.

But does that make the plan any worse? Because if the Kyuubi makes its move, couldn't he just die and change that, too?

 _You're seriously listening to this thing?_ Part of him screams. _It's the goddamn Kyuubi! You can't trust anything it says!_

He did his job and protected his village from the immediate threat: an honorable death for any shinobi. He has the chance to be _done_ , and maybe even see his friends and family in whatever form of an afterlife there is.

“I don't believe you,” he says out loud, even as he squashes the tiny sliver of hope that somehow the Kyuubi is telling the truth. “Let me die.”

The Kyuubi leans forward, so its mouth is right next to Mori’s left ear. The side of his face burns as the Kyuubi breathes in and out. Mori doesn't dare move.

When it speaks, its voice is low and deadly, sending shivers down Mori’s spine and making goosebumps rise on his skin.

**I'm afraid, mortal, that you don't exactly have a choice.**

A red wave of chakra washes over him, and the last thing he remembers is a scream that he vaguely recognizes as his own.

* * *

His head shoots up, a strangled scream caught in his throat. His hands fly up and desperately clutch his chest -- there's something _burning_ inside and he can't get it out. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, a frantic drumming that makes him lightheaded and dizzy. His breath comes out in pants and gasps.

Slowly, he forces himself to settle down.

 _Take a look around,_ he thinks, hoping that routine can break him out of his panic. _Identify your surroundings. Analyze._

He's lying on a mattress of some sort, with light blankets wrapped over his body. In the darkness, he can make out a window and a nightstand with a lamp on it. It's his room.

Or more specifically, his _old_ room.

“Fucking fox,” he curses.

He sends out a wave of chakra to break the genjutsu, but he can already tell it’s not going to work. There’s not a single flaw in the environment around him. Every insignificant detail, right down to the little crack in his ceiling that he was never able to fix, is perfect. Still, he needs to be sure, so he grabs the kunai he kept under his pillow and ruthlessly stabs into his forearm.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hisses, as the wound sends a wave of pain up and down his arm. The blood drips down onto his blanket -- something he’ll have to clean up later.

It’s real. Or, if it’s not, he doesn’t have the power to break out, so it might as well be real.

Ignoring his wound for now, Mori slips out of bed without so much as a sound and digs through his closet, attempting to narrow down the timeline.

There’s no ANBU mask. No jounin vest. So he’s a chuunin, then -- somewhere between the ages of fifteen and twenty. He runs his hand through his hair, somewhat longer than he was used to, and narrows the time down to fifteen and eighteen.

When he comes across a small mirror, Mori holds it up and studies his reflection. He’s startlingly young -- his face rounder, jawline less defined. Something in the reflection catches his eye, though -- he angles the mirror down and stares at his bare chest.

There’s an angry red burn mark on his chest. It could be mistaken for a normal burn, but the markings are too precise, too organized. There are twists and turns and lines neatly organized into a circle of kanji. It’s a seal.

Mori scowls.

He comes across a first aid kit and tiredly slaps a bandage around his self-inflicted wound. He doesn’t want to deal with this. He’d _died._ It was _over._ And the damn fox sends him, some insignificant cannon fodder character, to somehow prevent the destruction of Konoha and maybe save the life of an unlucky street urchin.

 _Why me?_ He thinks. _Why am I always left behind?_

A lone survivor. He’s not the only one, he supposes -- there are other ninja who have gone through worse and made it out, but right now, forced into the past by the thing he hates most in the world, Mori thinks he has the right to throw a tantrum.

He lets out a whiny yell, picks up the nearest object, and chucks it at the wall in front of him as hard as he can. The wooden box shatters with the impact, scattering splinters across the floor.

“I was _done,_ damn it,” he hisses. His eyes burn and he fists his hair, curled up in front of his closet like some angsty teenager. “I _finished._ ”

He’d gotten the damn fox with a Jyuuken strike straight to the chest. He’d gotten his revenge, his justice.

Yuko’s bloodied face, her wide white eyes flash before his eyes. Every detail is etched into his memory -- the roar of the flames, the blood dripping down her chest. The exact pitch and timbre of his teammate’s final scream. Mori lets out a strangled sob and curls up even tighter.

His last teammate is dead. He should be dead, too.

“Nii-san?”

Mori stiffens, the young voice slicing straight through the walls he’d built up over the years. Wordlessly, he lifts his head, eyes spilling over with grief and pain.

Soft footsteps pad outside his door, and the handle turns. Mori braces himself, but it does nothing when confronted with the face of his dead younger brother, wide brown eyes and floppy brown hair.

Kenji pokes his head around the corner of his door and stares at him, eyes bleary with sleep and tiredness. For a long moment, Mori sits silently, drinking in the sight of his brother -- _alive, alive, he’s_ alive -- and committing every detail to memory. The little tuft of hair sticking up on the back of his head. The crinkled shirt he wears. The way he rubs his eyes, a motion so familiar and distant all at the same time.

It’s been twelve years since he last saw his brother alive.

“I heard something.”

Kenji’s light voice breaks into his head, forcing Mori to open his mouth.

“Ahh, don’t come in,” Mori says dazedly, and his own voice sounds foreign to his ears. Younger. Lighter. “I, uh. Broke something. There’s splinters all over the floor.”

“Are you okay?” Kenji asks, yawning towards the end of his question.

 _No,_ Mori thinks. _I think I just made a deal with the devil and my dead brother is standing in front of me._

“I’m fine,” he says out loud. “I’ll clean it up. Go back to sleep, Ken.”

“You're crying.”

Mori wipes away some of the tears on his face, the salty water spreading across his cheeks. “It’s okay, Ken. It was just a -- just a dream.”

Kenji looks at him a little worriedly, but the boy nods and closes the door behind him. Mori listens to every step, every creak in the ground as light footsteps grow fainter and fainter.

For years, he couldn't think of his brother without recalling the images of his broken body underneath a burning beam of wood. But now.

His brother is _alive._ His brother is alive, and even if the Kyuubi is using him, even if he’s going to end up with claws in his back, his brother is alive and that means Mori has a chance to stop his death.

The air is cool, with a bite of cold that tells him it’s closer to winter than summer. But the leaves outside are turning brown. Mid-autumn. He studies his scars in the dark, mentally cataloging the ones that are there and the ones that are missing.

“Sixteen,” he whispers. Sixteen, in the mid-autumn, and Kenji is still alive.

He’s got one, maybe two weeks before the first Kyuubi attack.

One, maybe two weeks to save his brother and the rest of his team.  And somehow figure out how to keep the Kyuubi from breaking out twelve years from now.

He’s so screwed.


	2. The Kyuubi, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to your past, Mori.

Hayakawa Mori wanders the streets of Konoha, drinking in the sights of his childhood. The buildings are different -- never quite built back in the same way after the first Kyuubi attack. This wandering is equal parts indulgence and practicality: he needs to become familiar with the layout of the village again, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to swim around in nostalgia and fond memories.

It feels a little strange to be wearing the standard chuunin jacket after spending two years in ANBU, but he’s thankful that the sleeves cover up the bandages covering up his genjutsu test from last night.

Last night.

Mori clutches the red seal burned onto his chest and grimaces.  _ Warded against the Shinigami, huh? _

His forehead protector is tied around his head, keeping his longer hair out of his face. Distractedly, he runs his hand through his hair -- he’d cut it when he was eighteen, for this very reason. Maybe he should head to the barber shop right now and get it trimmed back.

“Hayakawa!”

Mori turns around, only to have someone slam into his side. Immediately, he has a kunai in his hand and shoves the attacker away. The attacker ducks under his follow-up strike, twists his arm around, and pins him in an armbar.

“Got you,” a familiar voice whispers in his ear, and Mori stiffens under the grip.

He ducks down and leans forward. The sudden shift in weight tips the attacker over his shoulder and onto the ground.

“Not quite,” he manages to choke out, and he holds out his hand to help his attacker to her feet.

Masuko Aya is sprawled out on the ground, her light brown hair covering her face. She shakes it out, and suddenly, Mori finds himself staring into dark green eyes he hasn’t seen in twelve years.

“That’s a new move,” she complains, oblivious to Mori’s inner turmoil. Aya’s fingers grasp his, and he pulls her up, memorizing the calluses on her hands and the feel of her hand in his own. He realizes he’s been holding her hand for a second longer than normal, and he drops her hand as if it burns.

Aya takes it all in stride, as she always does. She dusts off her pants and smiles at him. “Morning, Mori.”

His eyes flick over to the direction from which she came. Sixteen-year-old Hyuuga Yuko is approaching, an annoyed expression on her face. Behind her is their sensei, who looks a little amused.

“Where were you?” Yuko asks, and Mori hides his flinch. The last thing he’d heard from her was a pained scream, and it still echoes in his head.

“I… got lost,” he says. The excuse is terrible, and he can’t help but think of Hatake Kakashi, who was infamously late for everything.

Yuko gives him that deadpan, unamused stare. She casts an eye over his person and frowns. “You’re not packed.”

“Packed?” Mori echoes.

“Wow, Mori,” Aya snorts, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “I’m offended. You  _ do _ realize we have a mission today, right?”

_ Fuck. _ He didn’t check his calendar before he left the house, instead electing to go out and enjoy life. He’d forgotten that he’d had  _ obligations _ .

“Did we miss it?” Mori asks, unable to keep a slight waver out of his voice. He still can’t bring himself to look up at his sensei, who is probably doing that half-disappointed, half-amused expression that he normally had.

“No,” Yuko says, looking at him curiously. “We don’t have to leave for another hour. But you didn’t arrive at the training grounds at your usual time, so we decided to seek you out.”

Mori runs through his fuzzy memories. After the war had wrapped up, the amount of missions had steadily decreased. He’d joyfully taken easy D-ranks and C-ranks with his team, craving the simplicity of a normal, non-life-threatening mission. It wasn’t necessary for all of them to stick together, now that they had all ranked up, but they did so anyway -- and Ryuu-sensei was only happy to join his students in the transition back to peacetime.

“Okay,” Mori says out loud. He doesn’t know which mission this is, but if he remembered correctly, nothing  _ too _ drastic happened between the end of the war and October tenth.

“Let’s go get your stuff,” Aya says, looping her arm around his and pushing him into a walk. “You can say bye to your brother.”

Mori lets Aya lead him along, and Yuko and Ryuu-sensei follow. It’s an old and familiar feeling.

_ Team 14 walks the streets of Konoha once again _ , he thinks a little dazedly.

“I staked out the guy we’re supposed to be escorting,” Aya says. “He’s  _ hilarious _ .”

“If by hilarious, you mean hilariously  _ useless, _ ” Yuko mutters, pulling up beside Mori. “He’s a  _ mess. _ ”

“He hired Konoha ninja to escort him to the  _ next village over _ ,” Aya giggles. “It’s like, a two-day trip on the main road with several little stops along the way. Perfectly safe!”

“Maybe not for a civilian,” Mori replies, his voice a little steadier than before. He remembers this mission now, an unimportant escort to some nearby civilian village that he can’t remember the name of. There were some bandits along the way, but nothing dangerous -- the fight, if he recalled, was incredibly quick and over within a minute.

“Yeah, but he’s not even carrying anything of value,” Aya says. “Three chuunins and a jounin for  _ this _ ? Just normal traveler’s stuff, you know? And if he were  _ smart, _ he wouldn’t use such a fancy looking bag to hold food. That practically  _ screams _ ‘rich, unattended merchant’.”

“At least it’s an easy mission for us,” Mori replies, a grin on his face. He shoves away the tears building up behind his eyes and tries to keep from crying out of happiness. He’d forgotten how Aya used to babble.

“I guess,” Aya says. “Look, here we are! Go get your crap, Mori-kun.”

She shoves him towards his door, and Mori laughs. He enters his house and climbs up the stairs to his room.

The mission was about three days long, he remembers. Two days going there, keeping pace with a panicked civilian, and one day to come back. With the efficiency of a seasoned jounin, he gathers his stuff together and packs it neatly into his bag. Out of habit, he packs for an extra day -- a practice he’d picked up a few months into his ANBU career. Missions can easily go long, no matter how simple they seem at first glance.

Mori slings the bag over his shoulder and exits his room, closing the door behind him. He’s about to just get up and leave, when he suddenly remembers that he’s no longer the only one in this house.

“Are you feeling better, nii-san?”

Mori turns and smiles at Kenji. After a good midnight tantrum, Mori was somewhat able to calm himself and somewhat ground himself in this new reality. “Yeah. I’m better. Thanks.” He reaches out and ruffles the eleven year old's hair, a fond smile on his face.

“Mori!” Kenji ducks under his arm and huffs, a small pout on his face. His eyes flick over to the bag on Mori’s back, and he turns back to him, a question in his eyes.

“I’ll be back in three or four days,” Mori says. “It’s just an escort mission.”

“Did you tell tou-san?” Kenji asks.

Mori can’t exactly remember such a trivial detail, so he shrugs. “You can tell him for me. I have to go.”

“Stay safe,” Kenji says.

“Of course,” Mori answers, a promise in his voice. “Stay out of trouble, Ken.”

Kenji waves as Mori turns and heads down the stairs. Kenji’s grin is bright and untouched. Full of life.

Mori will do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

He exits his house and closes the door behind him, falling in step beside his teammates.

“That was quick.”

Mori looks up at his sensei for the first time since they’d met that morning. With a shock, Mori realizes that Ryuu-sensei is  _ his _ age, in a manner of speaking. In his mind, his teacher had always been some older, guiding figure. It’s kind of strange to think that they’re equals, almost.

“I had my stuff ready last night,” Mori says, “but then I got distracted, and it just completely slipped my mind this morning.”

“Rough night?” Ryuu-sensei asks.

Mori snorts, thinking of his conversation with the Kyuubi no Kitsune, the seal burnt onto his chest, and the bandages under his sleeve. “Like you wouldn’t  _ believe. _ ”

* * *

They walk loosely and casually. To untrained eyes, they are careless. Five people traveling together, even if four of them do have Konoha hitai-ate wrapped around their heads. 

But to a shinobi, it's obvious that they're protecting the civilian in the middle -- covering all their bases. Yuko is up front, with her Byakugan eyes keeping track of their surroundings. Aya and Mori walk just behind the civilian, close enough to leap into action to defend their client. And Ryuu-sensei brings up the rear, covering their backside and closing up their formation. 

The first day of their journey is uneventful. Mori hasn't had a C-rank in two years, ever since he’d joined ANBU and found himself collecting information and infiltrating enemy lines. Mori has a plain face and an average build, forgettable in every way. It's what makes him so good at infiltration -- that and a knack for sorting information into ‘useful’ and ‘useless’ on the fly.

So after all that, it's nice to be on a simple C-rank again. This time around, he thinks, he won't join ANBU unless something else comes up. 

He and Aya make light conversation, switching topics from food to the best fireproof fabrics to whatever else they come up with. Yuko chimes in from time to time, adding comments here and there, starting off another bout of debate from Mori and Aya. 

It feels like a dream. Mori aimlessly replies to Aya’s commentary. He catches himself zoning in and out, simultaneously distancing himself from his team and desperately drawing closer.

It makes his heart ache with sorrow and nostalgia all at once. 

When they stop for the night, Mori draws the short straw and takes second watch after sensei. In his humble opinion, it's harder to wake up and force yourself to go back to sleep than it is to keep up for a few more hours after stopping. Aya, Yuko, and their client form a triangle around the fire for warmth. Mori rolls his eyes at Aya’s smug expression and takes a spot a little farther away from the fire but on softer ground. 

He takes his time falling asleep, watching the stars slowly blink into existence in the sky above him.

When he does end up sleeping, it's quiet and dreamless. 

* * *

A hand grasps his shoulder, and Mori blearily opens his eyes. A blurry image swims above him, and he blinks, bringing the features into sharp focus. 

“The  _ hell? _ ” he hisses, whipping a kunai out from under his sleeping bag and pointing it at the figure in front of him. 

“I didn't think my face was that ugly,” Ryuu deadpans. 

It takes a moment for Mori to collect his thoughts --  _ Kyuubi time travel everyone's  _ alive -- and once he remembers that his dead sensei is _supposed_ to be here, he relaxes his stance and puts the kunai down. 

“Aaah, sorry, sensei. You startled me.”

“I'll say,” Ryuu says, looking at him a little curiously. “It's your watch.”

“See anything?” Mori stretches and crawls out of his sleeping bag. He slips his weapon belt on and glances at the fire. Aya, Yuko, and their client are sleeping peacefully. 

“It's a quiet night,” Ryuu says, spreading his bedding a short distance away. “Don't let your guard down, though.”

Mori nods and settles himself down on a rock. Absently, he sends out a small tendril of chakra, sensing the five people in the clearing and taking care to look out for more.

Ryuu lifts an eyebrow. “You’ve gotten better at that.”

“Have I?” Mori asks, glancing up with innocent curiosity and taking care to look a little pleased. In reality, he’s inwardly cursing himself. With silent alarm, he realized what else being sixteen meant -- less knowledge, less skill.

He couldn’t remember when he’d gotten better at sensing. He didn’t keep track of when he learned the jutsu he had. What if he slipped up? What if someone got suspicious of the knowledge that he had?

“You’ve been practicing?”

“Yes,” Mori says because it’s not exactly a lie -- he’d honed this skill over the past twelve years. He smiles. “You should sleep, sensei. I’ve got this covered.”

“Be careful,” Ryuu answers, and he lays down. Mori keeps track of his sensei’s breathing and chakra fluctuations until he’s absolutely sure he’s asleep. Then he groans and hides his face in his hands.

_ Right, I’m a chuunin, _ he grumbles to himself.  _ Damn it -- do I have to go through the jounin trials  _ again?

On the bright side, it’d be easier to do them this time around. But this conversation brings up several other issues that he hadn’t yet considered.

One: he’s a  _ chuunin _ . It’s not actually that big of a problem, but Mori chafes at the idea of having to work his way up into his old position once more.

Two: the Hokage. Who isn’t the Sandaime, but the  _ Yondaime _ Hokage. Who he will have to report to after this mission. Who is going to die in -- two weeks? Maybe less?

_ I really need to get the exact date from someone, _ he thinks.

But anyway, the Hokage. Mori can’t even  _ begin _ to entertain the thought of withholding information on the Kyuubi attack from his village, but he also doesn’t really see how he would be able to convince his superiors. He could try and tell them the truth. Any special information he reveals could have him branded a spy and sent to interrogation, and claiming ‘time travel’ isn’t exactly a solid defense.

_ I guess I could let a Yamanaka walk through my head, _ he thinks. But depending on the timeline, that could take too long, and he’d be stuck helpless when the Kyuubi finally attacks.

And speaking of the Kyuubi attack, there’s also the problem of Uzumaki Naruto. Mori can’t let his Hokage die in good conscience, but he also has no idea how the Yondaime sealed away the Kyuubi into the boy. Hell, he doesn't even know where the kid came from.

_ I don’t know enough about that night, _ Mori realizes. He’d shunned away any information on it and locked the memories away, unwilling to torture himself with ‘should’ves’ and ‘could’ves’. Never had he imagined he’d actually get a chance to  _ change  _ it all.

“This is what you get,” he mutters to an imaginary Kyuubi, wherever it is. “Sending back  _ cannon fodder _ . No one tells me anything.”

That brings up the issue of where the Kyuubi is, though. The demon had claimed that it’d been trapped in Konoha for generations, sealed away in other jinchuuriki. Who was its jinchuuriki now?

Were  _ they _ the ones who released the Kyuubi the first time?

_ No, _ Mori says, stamping down the sudden resentment and anger that rises at the thought.  _ You don’t know yet. Don’t make conclusions until you have the information. _

Mori sighs when he realizes the full extent of what he doesn't know. He might have been in ANBU, but it's not like the details of an S-ranked mission twelve years from now are going to help him prevent one of Konoha's greatest tragedies.

* * *

The bandits attack two hours after they get back on the road, and it's even easier to take them out that Mori remembers. He doesn't even have to pull out a kunai, restricting himself to pure taijutsu and he watches as the bandits stumble over each other and disappear into the forest. 

“Are you alright?” he asks their client, who seems a little shaken but is otherwise okay. 

The man nods fearfully. No doubt this incident only solidifies his conviction that he needs to hire ninja for a two-day trip. 

“Let's move,” Mori tells his teammates. “If we can hit his town by nightfall, we can get a room for the night and be able to make it back by noon tomorrow.”

As an afterthought, he looks over at his sensei to approve the scheduling and is rewarded with a curt nod. 

They pick up the pace -- slightly, seeing as their client is still shaken and fairly useless -- and by the time the sun begins to set, they can see the roofs of the town in question. 

“Thank you for your assistance,” their client says, as they see him to the village entrance.

Once he’s gone, Mori turns to his team. 

“Know of any good inns in this place?” Aya asks. She digs through her own bag slung over her shoulder. “I've got some money with me.”

“I think there's one over here,” Ryuu-sensei says. “I've passed through this town before.”

Everyone chips in their money, and they book two rooms: one for the girls and one for the guys. Mori stretches out on the bed and stares at the ceiling as his sensei brushes his teeth.

Today felt like a dream. He's been dealing with all the dead faces floating around him as best as he can, but he's reaching his emotional limit.

All he can see when he looks at his sensei is his burnt corpse. When he looks at Aya, he thinks of her name scratched onto the Memorial Stone, one out of many. And every time Yuko speaks, he can hear her screams in the back of his mind.

Abruptly, he sits up and pulls on his jacket. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Ryuu-sensei turns and narrows his eyes at his student. No doubt Mori had been setting off alarm bells all day. He'd caught his sensei frowning at him whenever he'd zoned out, when he suddenly became lost in his own head.

“Are you alright, Mori?” Ryuu asks, concerned for his student. 

Mori bites off the defensive  _ I'm fine  _ that he normally throws out. It's sure signal to his friends that something's bothering him. He needs to throw his sensei some sort of bone and keep him from prying further. 

“I had a nightmare last night,” Mori offers, not meeting the man's eyes. He doesn't offer anything else, though -- the best lies are the ones people come up with themselves. 

Ryuu’s gaze softens. No doubt he's thinking of the way Mori seemed shocked to see his face and almost attacked him when they traded shifts. “It's okay, Mori,” he says softly. “It might not feel like it right now… but war fades.”

_ Right, _ Mori thinks. The war. The Third Shinobi World War that had ended just a few months ago, and the one that he didn't have twelve years to distance himself from. It crops up in his head every now and then, but he's gotten a lot better at dealing with it. 

Mori latches onto the excuse with a slight twinge of guilt at deceiving his mentor.  “I know, but… Eh. I'll just go clear my head, I'll be back soon.”

Ryuu steps forward and places a hand in his shoulder. “If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you. We're all here for you.”

Mori smiles and shrugs off his sensei’s hand. “I know. Thanks. For everything.”

With that, he darts out of the room and out of the hotel, resolving to find a calendar in this tiny town. 

* * *

When they reach the gates of Konoha, it's October 2nd. Eight days before the Kyuubi attack. Eight days to somehow save his team, his family, and the Hokage. 

_ Fuck the Kyuubi _ , he thinks, not for the first time.

Their team drops by the Hokage’s Tower to leave a mission report. It’s quick and simple, and as soon as it’s done, Aya turns to him and Yuko.

“There’s a new barbecue shop open,” she says. “Want to try it out?”

_ Yakiniku Q, _ Mori’s mind supplies.

“Sure,” Yuko shrugs. They turn to look at Mori, who shrugs.

“I’ll meet you there later,” he says. “I have errands to run.”

“What about you, sensei?” Aya asks.

“I’ll be there,” Ryuu answers with a fond smile. “Around six is good?”

Mori thinks for a moment. It’s a little past one. He doesn’t know how long his meeting with the Hokage will be -- he doesn’t even have that clear of an idea of what he’s going to say. So he gives a noncommittal shrug.

“I should be done by then,” he says. “If I’m not, go ahead and eat without me.”

“Okay,” Aya nods, accepting the response with an easy grin. She and Yuko give him a quick wave before running off.

Ryuu-sensei reaches over and ruffles his hair. “See you later, Mori.”

“See you, Ryuu-sensei,” Mori nods back.  _ Hopefully. _

Once his sensei is out of the Tower, Mori looks up towards where he knows the Hokage’s office is. With a sigh, he heads over to the ninja at the desk, and says, “I’d like to arrange a meeting with the Hokage as soon as possible.”

The ninja looks up, glasses perched on his nose. “Name?”

“Hayakawa Mori, ah, chuunin,” he manages to use the correct rank. “Tell Hokage-sama…” he trails off, not sure how he can get this meeting at the top of the priority list. The normal process would have him wait a few more days before getting fitted in, but he doesn’t have the luxury of time right now -- he has eight days to prepare for the Kyuubi attack.

The ninja at the desk taps his pen impatiently. There’s a couple of jounin guards within earshot that aren’t really paying attention to him right now.

What does he say?

Does he bring up a jinchuuriki? The Kyuubi had been right when it said that he wouldn’t be trusted with that information -- if he brings that up, it’ll immediately cast suspicion on him, and by the time T&I clears him, it could be too late.

Does he say that he’d gotten information on an attack on Konoha? He doesn’t really know anything concrete about the Kyuubi attack, only that it happened on October 10th and a lot of people died. It’s not enough to do anything, and any proof he could provide would take too long to obtain.

Mori goes through everything he can remember about the Yondaime Hokage. Namikaze Minato, prodigy and hokage. Creator of the Hiraishin, hero of the Third Shinobi World War. Seal Master.

With a flash, Mori remembers the seal burnt onto his chest. 

“Tell Hokage-sama that it has to do with fuuinjutsu,” Mori says, a little weakly. His hand drifts towards his chest. “And… the, uh, Shinigami.”

The ninja at the desk gives him an odd look, but he scribbles the note on the corner of the application form. The ninja hands the form to a runner, who disappears in a puff of smoke. Mori prays that it’s enough to catch the Hokage’s attention -- most likely not. With any luck he'd be called in within the next two days.

Sighing, he turns to leave, but then there’s a pulse of chakra. Mori whirls around and to his surprise, the runner is back.

“Hayakawa-san,” the runner says, staring straight at him. “The Hokage will see you now.”

* * *

As soon as he lays eyes on the Yondaime, Mori feels like passing out. The man’s blue eyes are narrowed, an icy gaze that almost makes Mori falter as he walks through the door.

_ I’m a loyal Konoha shinobi, _ Mori thinks.  _ I have nothing to fear. _

“What do you know about sealing and the Shinigami,” the Yondaime speaks. His tone is sharp, concise. It’s not a question.

Mori feels his back straightening. He steels himself before he opens his mouth. Unconsciously, he reverts back to his ‘ANBU’ voice, as though he’s reporting the results of a mission. “There’s a seal that I obtained,” he says, electing to leave out the more complicated details of how he got it. “The... maker claims that it can ward off the Shinigami.”

The Yondaime studies him with a sharp eye. “...And you immediately came to  _ me _ ,” he says. There’s some strange emotion in his eyes, some strange cross between suspicion and… hope? For some reason, Mori feels like he’s missing part of the picture.

“You are a renowned seal master, Hokage-sama,” comes Mori’s reply. “The circumstances behind the seal are… unusual. I can’t truly explain them until you study the seal.” Mori’s eyes flick over to the corner, where he knows that the ANBU guard is hiding. “And… I’d prefer it if we could have this conversation in privacy.”

The Yondaime narrows his eyes, appraising. His icy, suspicious gaze sweeps over Mori’s person.

_ I’m a loyal Konoha shinobi, _ Mori repeats in his head.  _ I have nothing to fear. _

After a nerve-wracking thirty seconds, the Yondaime finally speaks up.

“Disarm him, and then leave us,” he says.

Mori lets out a quiet breath in relief. The ANBU hidden in the shadows steps out and calmly removes Mori’s weapons pouch. Mori remains still for a quick pat down, and the knife he keeps in his sleeve is removed as well. The ANBU lingers at the door for a moment, but finally exits when the Yondaime nods.

Mori watches as the Yondaime makes a single hand seal. Suddenly, glowing blue lines light up around the room, flashing briefly before fading back into the wood.

“We are in total privacy,” the Yondaime says. “No one can see us or hear us. You may speak freely.”

Mori takes a deep breath. “The seal is… burnt onto my chest.”

A wrinkle appears on the Yondaime’s forehead.

“If I may…?” Mori asks. When the Hokage nods, he shrugs off his chuunin vest and pulls his long sleeved shirt over his head. The burns on his upper chest sting with the movement, but he ignores it and stands patiently as the Yondaime stands up and moves forward to examine it.

Mori remains still for almost fifteen minutes as the Yondaime scrutinizes the lines burnt into his skin. Slowly, he begins to understand what it means. 

He holds his breath as the Yondaime backs away, his eyes wide.

“This seal,” he says, his eyes disturbed and body tense, “cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

Mori pulls his shirt back on and meets the Yondaime’s eyes. “You know what it does, then?”

“Yes,” he says, his voice surprisingly shaky. “How many times have you used it?”

“Once,” Mori answers. “This is my first time. It’s… an experience.”

The Yondaime turns around and begins pacing back and forth. “What did you come to change?”

Mori takes a deep breath. “In eight days,” he says. “The Kyuubi no Kitsune attacks Konoha.”

The Yondaime’s head shoots up, his eyes focused and intense. “What do you know about it?” he demands.

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Mori answers. “I know that it was summoned here somehow. Many died. And… you gave your life to seal away the demon.”

The Yondaime, this unattainable historic figure, this  _ hero --  _ looks shaken. He pauses in his pacing and sits on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Demons have to go somewhere,” the Yondaime says quietly. “Where did I seal it?”

“Into a boy named Uzumaki Naruto.”

The name makes the Yondaime stiffen, and he immediately gets to his feet. “...What?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“Uzumaki Naruto,” Mori repeats, blinking in confusion.

The kid should only be a few days old, if he was even born at all. How would the Yondaime Hokage know him?

“Is that all you know of?” The Yondaime asks, his voice even shakier than before.

“I’m sorry, Hokage-sama,” Mori bows. “I was a chuunin at the time.” He frowns, looking at his arms. “Well.  _ Am _ a chuunin. I was never told much about the situation.”

“But why would they choose you to come back?” the Yondaime asks. 

“It was an… accident?” It comes out as more of question than a statement. He didn’t really mean to travel through time, but in a way it was deliberate. Mori thinks of the Kyuubi and suppresses a shiver. 

“How far?” the Yondaime asks. “How far were you sent back?”

“Twelve years,” Mori answers.

The Yondaime takes a deep breath. “Thank you for informing me, Hayakawa-san. This Information is… Influential,” he says. The Yondaime closes his eyes and wrinkles his brow in thought. 

After a pause, he opens his eyes and gazes at Mori. “I'm assuming you've made jounin, at least.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

“I'll have someone recommend you for the trials in a few months,” the Yondaime says. “Gradually reveal your current skills. Do not tell  _ anyone _ about this.”

“Of course, Hokage-sama,” Mori bows. His heart is still pounding in his chest. 

“Hayakawa-san,” the Yondaime says. “In the event that I do not survive the sealing, inform my successor of your situation. I don't know how much of the future you're privy to, but if other major events arise I fully expect you to serve Konoha with every bit of information you have.”

Mori remains bowed.

“And…” the Yondaime pauses, here, choosing his words carefully. “If I  _ do _ end up sealing the Kyuubi into…into Naruto, keep an eye on him. Guard him with your life.”

Mori bites back an angry protest. He knows that the Kyuubi had been in control at the time, but that doesn't change the fact that his last impression of the boy was of his bloodied arm strangling him to death. 

“I suppose you may as well know, in order to have a better grasp on the situation,” the Yondaime continues. “Be aware, this information will not leave this room or I  _ will  _ have your head.”

Curious, Mori flicks his eyes up and almost regrets it. The Yondaime is deadly serious, with a gaze that cuts clean to the core. 

“My wife is Uzumaki Kushina,” the Yondaime says, clearly and quietly. “We were planning on naming our son Naruto.”

Mori lifts his head up, his mouth slightly open. 

“Protect him,” the Yondaime says. It is not a request. 

_ Uzumaki Naruto? _ Mori thinks, feeling slightly dizzy. The Hokage’s  _ son? _

Now that he thinks of it, Uzumaki is a familiar name. He vaguely recalls a jounin named Kushina, a woman with long red hair. And… the Yondaime. Naruto. Blond hair and blue eyes. 

_ Holy shit, _ he thinks, and he silently curses himself. He calls himself an ANBU, a professional gatherer of information. He can't believe that he let something as massive as _this_ slip by. 

He can't believe that he didn't notice that the jinchuuriki of the Nine-Tails was the  _ Yondaime’s son.  _

_ Damn the Kyuubi!  _ Mori runs through a thousand different curse words in his mind, careful to hide his frustration with the fox from the Hokage.  _ No wonder it was so certain I'd end up protecting the kid.  _ He might have been able to ignore the beast, but he definitely can't ignore an order from his Hokage. He definitely can't ignore the  _ son of the Yellow Flash.  _

“Of course, Hokage-sama,” Mori promises, and he can swear that he hears the damn fox laughing in the background.

* * *

“You're being awfully boring today,” Aya comments, glancing over at Mori out of the corner of her eye. It's early morning, and they're at the training grounds waiting for Yuko to get back with a fourth person so they can spar in pairs.

“Am I?” Mori hums. He's laying down under a tree, hands behind his head and eyes closed. To anyone just looking by, he seems lazy, relaxed. Just a teenager hanging out under a tree with a friend.

In reality, he's running simulations in his head, making a list of all the things he needs to do in order to save his family on October 10th.

The Yondaime knows something more about the Kyuubi attack than he does. Those pieces of information Mori dropped obviously had more implications that the Yondaime is aware of, and Mori has no doubt that the Hokage will act accordingly.

But just in case, he plans.

The first step is that he's going to make sure his father and his brother are out of the house all day. Mori remembers rushing to a burning skeleton of his home, just in time to watch his father and brother stumble out of the smoke -- only to get crushed by a falling beam. 

It's not something he wants to see a second time.

If he remembers correctly, most of the damage to the village was in the southern areas. He had informed the Yondaime, who agreed to start pulling back on out-of-village missions to ensure that they have more ninja on standby to protect the village. Mori plans to leave his brother and father under the watch of the other ninja. He would stay and protect them himself, but there’s another thing he has to do.

The second step is to keep track of where Ryuu-sensei is that day. Mori remembers the clear beginnings of October 10th with tragic clarity. He and Aya had dragged Yuko along to peruse the markets. They didn’t know where their sensei had been, until the Kyuubi had appeared and they all leaped into action to join the fray.

Mori can’t forget Aya’s stricken expression as she caught the scent of their bleeding sensei. She had always been good at tracking -- better than a Yuko without her Byakugan -- and she’d sprinted up in front of Mori and Yuko, the glowing green healing chakra forming in her hands.

Mori feels a lump form in his throat as the scene plays out on his head. Aya was always a step ahead, running forward where most would have hesitated.

“Mori?”

The panicked voice breaks him out of his thoughts. Mori snaps to attention, only to find Aya’s face hovering above him. Her eyebrows are knitted in concern, a frown on her face.

Mori reaches up and brushes a tear away from his eyes. Oh. No wonder why she sounded so worried.

“It’s alright, Aya,” he says. He shifts into a sitting position and leans his back against the tree.

“And I suppose you just have dirt in your eyes.”

“It’s just… memories,” he caves in, unwilling to lie to one of his best friends.

Aya nods in understanding. She presses her shoulder to his and closes her eyes as she rests her head against the tree trunk.

Mori’s still stumbling through the past in a daze. He had come to terms with Aya’s death a long time ago, but being back in the past and seeing her all over again only reopens all his guilt and grief.

It's only now, with time and distance, that he realizes how  _ young _ they all were. Sixteen, barely chuunins, and getting their first taste of peace. Sixteen, and facing the loss of his family and closest friends. He's a teenager with the perspective of an experienced ninja, a boy with the eyes of man. He's where he belongs and out of place all in one.

“It's okay to be not okay, you know?” Aya speaks up suddenly. 

Mori looks over at her, startled.

Aya stares out over the grassy training field with a thoughtful expression. “Sometimes life gets fucked up, and it fucks us up, too. That's natural. But it's also important to not get stuck in all that. There's a future out there, somewhere.”

A future, somewhere. Mori can't help it. He laughs. 

Aya whips her head around to glare at him. “I was trying to make you feel better, you jerk!”

“No, no,” Mori reassures her, a warm smile on his face. “I think… That was exactly what I needed to hear right now. Thank you.”

Mori squeezes her hand in apology. As much as Aya babbles, she's also surprisingly insightful sometimes, with a knack for saying the right things at the right times. 

“You're welcome,” she says. 

They sit in silence for a long while. It’s quiet, but companionable. Peaceful.

Mori thinks of the Kyuubi and wonders how long the peace will last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I have over ten thousand words on this thing. RIP.
> 
> This stupid story, though. You try to make up one random character and then suddenly you get attached, and before you know it you've got an entire cast that you have to write. Also, it ended up being kinda depressing. It'll get happier, I promise.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~and then it won't HAHA~~
> 
>  
> 
> I'm already a third of the way through the next chapter, which features one of my favorite characters. Go ahead, try and guess who it is.
> 
> Did you like it? Did you not? Feedback is always appreciated!


	3. The Kyuubi, Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM, here it is.

Yuko shows up to the training session looking unusually angry and ruffled. The normally prim and proper Hyuuga storms across the field, making a beeline for Aya and Mori.

Aya holds a hand up over her mouth and unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh.

Yuko’s hair is windswept out of her normally neat ponytail. Her light colored tunic is dirty in several places, and she's soaking wet. Her hand is tightly wrapped around the wrist of an unfortunate young boy with a hitai-ate tied around his forehead.

Mori immediately feels sorry for the poor genin on the receiving end of Hyuuga Yuko's wrath.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear!” the boy babbles, his face bright red and black eyes wide with fear.

“Shut up, brat,” Yuko says, somehow managing to convey both ‘proper and formal’ and ‘seething with rage’ into three words. “I _saw_ you. This is your punishment.”

“What happened?” Mori asks, looking at Yuko for an answer.

“I was looking for Shinji for a spar,” she answers, water dripping off of her clothes. “When _someone_ tossed a water balloon onto me.”

“It was an accident!” the kid protests.

Oh, wow. The dialogue seems a little familiar -- Mori thinks he can almost remember this happening the first time around. He can't really remember what happens next, though.

Yuko squeezes the kid’s wrist and he shrieks.

“I thought I should impart my knowledge onto the next generation,” Yuko continues, “and perhaps, teach this young boy a lesson.”

Aya cackles. Mori wracks his brain, trying to remember what he did last time, but it's been twelve years.

“I'm getting old,” he mutters quietly, and Yuko shoots him a bewildered expression.

 _Fuck it,_ he thinks. _I'll just play it by ear._ Mori sighs and turns to the boy.

The boy’s brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail, with bangs hanging down on both sides of his face. He looks up at Mori, pleading silently. The kid looks a little familiar, but Mori doesn't quite recognize him.

 _Help me,_ the boy mouths _._ He looks ready to get down on his knees and beg.

“What’s your name, kid?” Mori asks.

“U-Umino Iruka!”

Mori blinks. Umino Iruka? As in, the Academy sensei Umino Iruka? The longer he studies the kid, the more he can see it.

“What happened?” Mori asks again, this time looking at Iruka for an answer.

“I was with my friend, Mizuki,” Iruka babbles. “We were tossing water balloons back and forth to each other. Our sensei said that it would help our hand-eye coordination!”

And Yuko happened to be walking by. Mori rolls his eyes and turns to his friend. “Didn’t you see the water balloon coming?”

Yuko flushes. “Contrary to popular belief, my Byakugan isn’t activated all the time.”

“And you,” Mori says, turning to Iruka. “Why were you practicing in a public area? There’s training grounds for a reason.”

Iruka hangs his head in shame. “S-sorry, chuunin-san.”

“Not to me, kid,” Mori says, inclining his head towards Yuko.

Iruka tenses and turns to the wet Hyuuga.

“Ah, sorry Hyuuga-san,” he says, voice wavering. “It -- it won’t happen again!”

Yuko lets out a breath. Mori rolls his eyes at her. _Come on, Yuko, you're better than that._

“Thank you,” Yuko says stiffly, like a five-year-old attempting to apologize to their greatest enemy. “And… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

Aya giggles and Yuko shoots her a glare.

Mori lets out a sigh. “Well. Do you have any other training for today, Iruka-kun?”

“No?”

Mori looks over at Aya and lifts an eyebrow. She shrugs in reply. Satisfied, Mori turns back to Iruka.

“We were looking for a fourth person so we can spar in pairs. Would you like to join us?”

Iruka squeaks. “M-me?”

“Yeah,” Mori says. “You don’t have to go up against Yuko. She’s scary when she’s angry.”

“Pardon me?” Yuko says, her voice dripping with cold fury.

“Exactly,” Mori nods his head. “Just like that.”

Iruka is looking at Mori like he’s lost his mind, but Yuko’s been one of his best friends for eighteen years. Or six, depending on your perspective. Either way, he's earned the right to tease the easily riled Hyuuga.

“But -- you’re a chuunin! And I’m just a genin!” Iruka says. “I can’t spar against you!”

“I’m sure you can learn something from me,” Mori says with an amused smile. “And believe it or not, I might learn something from you, too.”

“Really?” Iruka looks fascinated.

“Yeah,” Mori says. “ _I’ve_ never been able to hit Yuko with a water balloon before.”

Yuko hits her head against the tree trunk as Aya completely loses it. Mori’s lips quirk up into a smile when Iruka hesitantly accepts the invitation to spar.

 

* * *

Mori’s never taught a genin team before-- he was on the sensei rotation for a few years and failed the few teams he'd been given. But he did help out Yuko every now and then, who got saddled with the most entertaining set of brats when they were both twenty. She led them for six years before they all managed to pass the Chuunin exams, and every now and then Yuko and her students would come together for a quick reunion. So even though Mori’s not that great of a teacher, he _has_ had experience handling children.

It helps that Iruka’s a bright kid. Within two hours, Mori’s already seen some improvement in his taijutsu form. As time goes on, Iruka begins to loosen up, chipping in comments and revealing a wry sense of humor that Mori finds incredibly amusing.

Mori dodges a quick strike from the kid and flicks him on the shoulder. Iruka yelps and stumbles, and Mori sticks out a foot to help him lose his balance.

The kid, though, embraces the fall. He rolls with it, and pops back up, falling back into the Academy taijutsu form. It's a little wobbly, but Mori beams at the boy -- he's certainly quick thinking and can handle himself.

He was never very familiar with Umino Iruka the first time around, Mori thinks, as he dances around another series of attacks from the kid. In fact, the only thing he knows about the man is that he was an academy sensei and…

And one of the first to die in the second Kyuubi attack.

Mori stumbles mid-swing and Iruka takes the opening by knocking him behind the knee. Mori tumbles over and lands on the ground.

Iruka looks horrified as he rushes over. “Oh my god! Are you alright, Mori-senpai?”

“Yeah,” Mori says. Umino Iruka was the first corpse they came across when Mori’s ANBU squad went in to track down the rogue jinchuuriki. Umino Iruka is standing right in front of him, eleven years old and watching him with wide eyes.

Time travel  _sucks._

He reaches up, flips Iruka over, and pins him to the ground. Then he stands up and holds out a hand, offering to help the young boy to his feet. “Don’t let your guard down.”

Iruka nods determinedly and takes his hand, letting Mori pull him up to a standing position.

Mori opens his mouth. “Not bad, Iruka-kun. You’ve got good form down, all you need is to polish up your defense --” He pauses and rewinds Iruka’s words in his head. “Wait, Mori-senpai?”

Iruka ‘ _eeps_ ’ and turns beet red. “Ah, sorry Mori-san, I didn't--”

“It's okay!” Mori says quickly. He grins and ruffles Iruka’s hair. “It's just -- heh. Wasn't expecting that.”

He'd forgotten that he was supposed to be only five years older than this kid. He just sort of slipped back into the ‘sort of jounin instructor’ role without thinking about it -- he wouldn't have been surprised to hear a cheeky ‘Mori-sensei’ out of Iruka’s mouth.

Iruka squawks and shoves away Mori’s hand. “You’re going to mess up my hair!”

"It's already messed up," Mori shoots back, though it comes out a bit more solemn than he intended. He blinks, and he sees Iruka's ponytail fanned out on the forest floor, matted with dirt and blood.

He forces himself to look away. Mori glances over at Aya and Yuko, in which the latter is wiping the floor with Aya in taijutsu. Aya grumbles and slams her palm into the ground, sending a shockwave of earth that causes Yuko to stumble. She takes advantage of the opening, but Yuko simply dances under the punch and slips away.

“They're good,” Iruka says, watching the two girls spar.

Mori nods in agreement. Aya has an earth affinity and an enthusiasm for anything to do with chakra. Yuko, even at sixteen, is considered talented with taijutsu -- and Mori knows that she's only going to get better. Two years from now, she's going to get promoted to jounin. With any luck, Aya will be snagging that promotion alongside her.

“You'll be just as good,” Mori says. He doesn't know how physically strong Iruka was in the future, but he does know it takes a lot of patience and hard work to become a teacher. Even if for some reason Mori changes Iruka’s career path, he's sure that the kid's character will remain just as strong.

Iruka’s eyes widen and his cheeks are tinted pink. “Thanks.”

They watch the girls spar for a few moments more before Iruka speaks up again.

“M-Mori-senpai?” Iruka asks, stumbling over the honorific a little hesitantly.

Mori glances over.

“I should go,” Iruka says, a sheepish smile on his face. “I lost track of time.”

“Alright,” Mori agrees. “I'll see you around?”

Iruka nods enthusiastically and dips into a quick bow. “Thank you for the spar!”

“Thank _you_ for the spar,” Mori returns, a light grin on his face. He pretends that he doesn’t see the corpse of an academy sensei, with several stab wounds and burns on its limbs. “See you.”

Iruka lets out a final wave before scampering off. _Kenji and Iruka would get along,_ Mori thinks to himself, and he plans to get them to run into each other later.

Aya wraps up the spar when she actually manages to trip Yuko with a sneaky earth jutsu. She punches the air and crows in victory while Yuko calmly gets to her feet and wipe the dust off her tunic.

“That makes twenty-eight to nineteen, in _my_ favor,” Yuko points out, while Aya dances around.

“I'm catching up, Yuko, just you wait!” Aya declares. “Mori, you done? I thought I saw that brat trip you up.”

Mori feels his ears start to burn. “I was holding back,” he says. “Also, I _won._ ”

“I could've sworn he called you ‘senpai’,” Yuko says, a curious lilt in her voice.

Aya gasps, her eyes widening comically. “Oh my god! Mori has a kouhai!” she flings an arm around his shoulder, which Mori bears with an amused grin. “Holy shit, we should totally have him get food and grab stuff for us!”

“He's not a servant.” Mori rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing. “Wow, Aya.”

“What's the point of being called ‘senpai’, then? Aw man, you should've let me spar with him -- I'd be the best senpai ever!”

“You’re too ridiculous for younger people to respect you,” Yuko says calmly, and Aya squawks in protest. Yuko smiles innocently. “Let's go get some food.”

They head out of the training grounds together. Aya pulls Mori a little closer and lowers her voice.

“Feeling better?” she asks quietly. No doubt she was worried about his crying from earlier. That's probably why she's being a little more affectionate and boisterous than usual.

“Yeah,” Mori answers, a fond smile on his face. “Thanks.”

Aya beams before turning to Yuko. “Did _you_ know that Mori’s good with kids? I had _no_ idea. I thought you hated talking to new people, Mori.”

“He certainly handled that little pest fairly well,” Yuko mutters, still peeved about the water balloons.

“Since when were you good with kids?” Aya asks. “You should become an instructor!” Aya elbows him in the side and waggles her eyebrows. “Then you can upgrade to _Mori-sensei._ ”

Mori scoffs. “Hell no,” he says. “I did my time in the Academy. I'm not going _back_.”

“Get promoted and be a jounin instructor, then,” Aya says. “Ooh -- three little genin brats at your beck and call.”

“Actually,” Mori cuts in, “I think Yuko would make a good teacher.”

Yuko blinks and turns to him, startled. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he says, thinking of twenty-six-year-old Yuko congratulating her three students on their promotion to chuunin. He thinks of her quiet guidance and firm leadership, how she both pushed and inspired the three kids to improve and grow. “You're steady and firm. Stable. I think you'd be good at it.”

Aya purses her lips in thought. “I can see that,” she decides, and nods at Yuko.

“Oh,” Yuko says, ducking away and hiding her eyes under her bangs. Her cheeks are a little pink and she has a small smile on her face. “...Thanks, guys.”

“As long as you don’t scare any more genin children with your temper, that is.”

“Aya!”

They continue to chatter the rest of the way until Ramen Ichiraku catches Aya’s eye. Yuko wrinkles her nose at the thought of such cheap cuisine, which only makes Aya and Mori more determined to drag her into the ramen stand.

As they place their orders and make plans for the rest of their week, Mori smiles softly to himself.

 _This is what I’ve missed,_ he thinks. Aya waves her salt ramen around and tries to get Yuko to eat it, while the other girl stiffly sips her pork ramen with an impassive expression.

_I’m not going to let it slip away again._

* * *

The Yondaime’s got ANBU tailing him, which makes Mori feel a little relieved, to be honest. The story of a time traveling shinobi is a little farfetched, even if Mori did happen to have a seal that could back up his statement. After all, Mori could just as easily be a time traveling traitor. The Hokage didn't _have_ to listen to him, but whether or not he was believed, Mori was expecting to be watched.

There's always at least one watching him as he wanders around - probably more, but Mori doesn't want to waste chakra on sensing allies in his hometown.

Sometimes Yuko seems to catch a glimpse of them, but Mori doesn't think that she's caught onto the fact that they're following him. Aya is too comfortable within the walls of Konoha to give it much thought. Ryuu-sensei, on the other hand, catches on pretty quickly. He spends a few days giving Mori suspicious and thoughtful looks before he subtly approaches Mori about it on October 8th, two days before the Kyuubi attack.

“Do anything interesting lately?” Ryuu asks, as Mori flings another kunai into a straw target. The metal blade sinks in with a firm _thump_ , and Mori gears up to throw another. Out of the corner of his eye, Aya and Watari Shinji are sparring -- Yuko had managed to find their fourth sparring panther without getting distracted by a water balloon. The Hyuuga flips through a magazine on the side, waiting for her turn to go up.  

“Not that I know of,” Mori shrugs. “Why?”

Maybe if he pretends that he doesn't sense them, then he can convince his sensei that he won't know why he's being followed.

Ryuu silently flicks his eyes around their surroundings, but he doesn't say anything. Mori chucks three blades into the straw dummy, and they all hit three different vital points.

“You're getting better at that,” Ryuu comments. Mori’s aim was always fairly average for his age, but now he's hitting with the average speed and accuracy of a jounin rather than a chuunin. Mori wonders just how much he's improved. A lot of his improvement over the years has been gradual rather than abrupt.

“Yeah, you think so?” Mori says, scratching the back of his head and taking care to look a little pleased and a little embarrassed. “I've just been trying to polish up the basics.”

“Hmm,” Ryuu says thoughtfully. “Basics, huh?”

“Yep,” Mori nods. He slips four kunai into his hands and throws. Two hit on target, one is slightly off, and the fourth misses the dummy by mere millimeters.

Mori sighs.

“I wonder…” Ryuu murmurs, a hand on his chin.

Mori can't help the flash of panic, which he hides with an innocently curious expression that he turns onto his sensei. “Huh?”

“Ahh, nothing,” Ryuu dismisses it.  “Just thinking.”

Mori shrugs and wraps up his target practice. He goes out to collect the kunai he'd thrown and returns to the training field.

The whole time, Ryuu is stroking his chin -- a sure sign that he's thinking hard on something. Mori shoots him an oblivious smile and hopes that sensei doesn't jump to the right conclusion.

Ryuu waits another beat. Mori switches his projectiles from kunai to shuriken, and flicks out a couple of the small weapons.

“Mori,” Ryuu says suddenly. “I'll be going back on the jounin instructor rotation in a few months.”

Mori blinks, not expecting that statement. He stares at his sensei as the words sink in.

Ryuu-sensei… teaching other people? Mori had always thought of him as _his_ teacher. When he died, the only legacy left behind by Shima Ryuu was in him and Yuko.

It was inevitable, he supposed. He, Aya, and Yuko were all capable chuunins now, and have been since the end of the war. There was no need for them to be attended to by a jounin instructor; they were able to take care of themselves. Ryuu-sensei’s skills would be better spent on another team.

“Oh,” Mori says out loud. He wonders just how much he had changed in this timeline. Ryuu-sensei never said anything about this to him the first time around. “I… Good luck?”

Ryuu grins. “If they're anything like you three, I'm going to need it. Remember our first day of training?”

“Oh my god, don't remind me,” Mori says, slapping a hand over his face. “What a _disaster._ ”

“You're one to talk -- I think you didn't even open your mouth that first day.”

“Aya talked enough for five people.”

Ryuu snorts. “Yuko sure loved that.”

Mori barks out a laugh. Aya babbled even more when she was ten than she did at sixteen, and if there was one thing that bothered ten-year-old Hyuuga Yuko, it was unnecessary noise. The conflict between Yuko’s stoic demeanor and her quick temper led to a lot of outbursts from the young Hyuuga, and poor Mori -- a young, quiet, and painfully shy Mori -- had been caught in the crossfire.

“It's a miracle we passed,” Mori says, a nostalgic smile crossing his lips.

“I'm glad you did,” Ryuu says, looking out over the field. Aya pins down a disheveled looking Shinji and lets out a victorious whoop. Yuko smiles, and although she seems to be focused on reading her magazine, the veins around her eyes say otherwise.

“I'm proud of all of you,” Ryuu says, placing a paternal hand on Mori’s shoulder. “My cute little genin brats, all grown up.”

“Please don't get too sentimental,” Mori requests. Yuko was a sobbing mess when her genin team got promoted and didn’t need her supervision anymore. She’d eaten all the ice cream out of Mori’s fridge -- Mori couldn’t say no to her pathetic, weepy face.

“Keep an eye on them for me, okay?” Ryuu asks. “Look out for each other.”

“Of course,” Mori says, steel lining his voice. If all goes according to plan, they're all going to be around to look out for each other.

“And, Mori?”

Mori turns and meets his the man’s gaze. There’s a hint of concern in Ryuu-sensei’s eyes, a wrinkle in his forehead that speaks of just how many warning bells Mori’s been setting off despite his best efforts to keep his emotions in check.

“Stay out of trouble.”

Mori notices the way Ryuu-sensei’s eyes flick over to the treeline. No doubt there's an ANBU waiting in the tree, keeping careful watch to make sure Mori isn't stepping out of line and being a time traveling traitor.

Ryuu gives him a quick wave before walking out of the training grounds. Mori thinks of the burns on his chest and winces almost imperceptibly.

 _Sorry, sensei,_ he thinks, _but it's a little too late for that._

* * *

He doesn’t sleep, instead electing to stare out his window. There’s a clock to his side, reading _11:54 PM._

Tomorrow night, the Kyuubi attacks.

Mori hasn’t talked much with the Hokage in the past few days -- the man was busy setting up whatever preparations he was doing. Mori feels horrible that he doesn’t know much beyond what is general knowledge, but Namikaze Minato reassures him.

“If you don’t know much, then somebody did their job,” he says. “If we’re lucky, no one else will have to know what you know -- what _we_ know.”

But Mori can tell the Yondaime is frustrated, too. The few times they’ve met up to discuss the Kyuubi attack, the Yondaime has been distracted, his mind somewhere else entirely.

Mori catches a few of his quiet mutterings, a few phrases that only shed light on fragments of some massive picture Mori can’t even begin to imagine.

_Birth complications…?_

_… use the Shiki Fuujin…?_

_Can’t survive an extraction…_

He doesn’t understand a word, but he does know that what little information his has isn’t enough to satisfy his Hokage. He’s missing all the details that mean anything. He can’t explain how the Kyuubi got into Konoha. He doesn’t know anything about the previous jinchuuriki and what happened to them, or how the Kyuubi got out of them in the first place.

“Fuck,” Mori mutters, hiding his face in his hands. The moon is bright, and even in the dark Konoha is beautiful. Only a few lights are still on -- the majority of the village is sleeping soundly, oblivious to the disaster headed their way.

All he has to do is make sure his family survives the next twenty-four hours. It _sounds_ so simple, but Mori has taken many simple-sounding missions that went to hell in the first few minutes.

Mori lifts up his head and looks over at his clock, just as the _11:59_ changes into _12:00 AM._

It’s October 10th, and Mori isn’t fine at all.

* * *

He's at the park with Kenji and his dad, who he managed to wheedle into taking a day off from running his gardening shop. Kenji is climbing a tree with one of his friends from the Academy. His dad is frowning over the shogi board between them.

“You've been home a lot lately,” the elder Hayakawa says, moving a rook down the side of the board.

Mori shrugs and scowls at the board. Shogi was never his thing -- never was able to think past the next two moves.

When he captures one of his dad's bishops, the man smiles, and Mori groans.

“You win,” he grimaces.

“You don't know that, yet.”

“You have that stupid smile on your face,” Mori complains. It’s the smile that his dad makes when Mori makes a dumb move that essentially spells out his own doom. “You win.”

Hayakawa Taichi laughs. He takes up the pieces in his hands and starts to reset the board.

“I hated shogi when I was your age,” he says, as he lays out the row of pawns. “I was too impatient.”

“Shogi is an old man game,” Mori mutters. He wonders if one day _he’ll_ become the middle-aged man at the park playing shogi against unsuspecting people with poor strategy.

“I’ll have you know that I am _not_ old,” his dad protests. “Damn, kids these days…”

Mori half pays attention to the words. The rest of his attention is focused on his surroundings, cataloging every gust of wind, every scent and sight. Shadows gradually grow longer. The sun drifts closer and closer to the horizon, hanging in the sky like a noose, slowly being pulled tighter and tighter. Mori hardly got any sleep last night, but he feels like he can run twelve marathons with how restless he is right now.

Still, he smiles and talks amicably with his father. There is no outward sign of his apprehension, except maybe the dark bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep. He starts off another game with his dad, and Kenji and his friends compare the bugs that they found in the trees.

Forty-five minutes later, Mori is left scowling at the shogi board again. It’s getting closer to four o’clock: he promised to meet up with Yuko and Aya in the afternoon, and he’s subtly arranged schedules around to be certain that his brother and his father won’t be home for a long while -- at least until after the Kyuubi attack.

In fact, his excuse should be coming around right now.

“Ha!" He spots dark brown hair and bad posture coming into the park, and he waves. "Izo!”

Nara Izo yawns as he approaches their table at the park. He glances at the board in between Mori and his father. Then he turns to Mori.

“You suck.”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Mori complains, but he internally grins as the pieces fall into place. Mori helped Izo out once back when they were genin -- despite being as lazy as any other Nara, Izo had a mischievous streak a mile wide, and Mori had covered for him on one of his more visible pranks.

Not that Mori did it on purpose, but Izo still owed him.

The last time around, Mori cashed in his favor when pawning off an irate Yuko, but this time, he thinks, this is a better use for it.

“Izo, this is my father. Tou-san, this is Nara Izo,” Mori says, introducing his friend. “He’s like you -- he likes old man games.”

“Shogi is _not_ an old man game!” both his father and Izo say at the same time.

“Look, getting along already,” Mori says with a grin. He lets his hand drift toward a lance that he _knows_ is the only thing between his king and certain doom, and cheers in triumph as Izo interrupts him.

“Dude,” Izo says, slapping his hand away from the board. “ _Don’t_. Move your knight instead.”

His father chuckles. “I was hoping he wouldn’t notice that,” he said with a grin on his face.

Mori follows Izo’s instructions for the next few moves, subtly riling up the Nara with bad strategy and weak shogi skills.

Finally, with calculated frustration, Mori throws his arms up in the air and gets out of his seat.

“You know what? Izo, _you_ play my dad. I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.”

“Gladly,” Izo retorts, sliding into the chair and frowning at the board in front of him. Then he looks up, slightly embarrassed, and tacks on a quick, “If you don’t mind, Hayakawa-san.”

“Not at all,” his dad replies. “My son doesn’t appreciate this game at all. It’ll be nice to play against someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Izo smiles and prepares to get into the game, but before he does, he glances up at Mori, a question in his eyes.  _How long?_

 _As long as you can,_ Mori mouths, and just in case Izo’s forgotten about the rest of his request, he gestures over at his little brother, too.

Izo nods and returns his attention to the game, already planning six different strategies to victory.

With that, Mori hurries off. Nara Izo is a capable ninja, who will surely step up to protect his family and whatever other civilians are around when the attack happens. Mori’s pretty sure that Izo thinks that Mori’s out partying or something, but what he thinks doesn’t matter. He has a team to save.

* * *

“Market night!” Aya sings, pulling Yuko by the hand and dragging her through the streets.

Yuko is scowling, but Mori laughs at the way she lingers at the various stands, casting a curious eye over the goods at the open market.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Mori mutters under his breath.

“Shut up,” Yuko snaps back, but she’s grinning.

Mori smiles back as best as he can. Even if he is enjoying time spent with his teammates, he feels as though there’s a weight pressing against his head.

The sky is a brilliant blend of orange and pink, and the sun is just a little bit above the horizon. Under normal circumstances, Mori would find it beautiful, but all he can think about is what sunset means for the rest of Konoha.

He scans the stands for something that could prompt his teammates to help him find their mentor.

“Didn’t sensei say he was looking for a new wallet?” Mori asks innocently, pointing out a nice leather wallet for sale at one of the stands.

“Oh!” Aya whips around, green eyes pinning down the product in question. “Yeah, he did!”

She bounds up to the stand, already pulling out her money. Yuko, still being dragged by Aya’s iron grip, ends up standing next to her, and Mori joins them as Aya launches into a bargaining session with the owner of the stand.

Now he has an excuse to track down Shima Ryuu before the Kyuubi attack happens. If they can get to him in time, then hopefully they’ll all be there to defend each other and the village when the demon makes its appearance.

The demon. Unconsciously, Mori’s hand drifts up to his chest, where the seal against the Shinigami is branded into his skin. Mori still doesn’t know how to feel about that -- on the one hand, he’s gotten to see his family again, alive and well. But on the other hand…

He still has nightmares about Yuko’s bloody demise at the hands of a possessed twelve-year-old. Sometimes he passes an innocuous corner of Konoha and sees a pile of burning rubble. Every once in awhile, he’ll freeze while talking with one of his teammates, expecting them to disappear before his eyes.

The Kyuubi may have given him this chance, but he can’t forget that it’s the reason why he needed it in the first place.

Aya suddenly punches the air as Yuko gives out a low whistle. Mori turns his attention to the bargaining battle in front of him.

“What just happened?” he asks.

“She talked the price from a thousand ryo down to three hundred,” Yuko says, watching as Aya counts out her money for the cashier. “What the _hell?_ ”

“I _wish_ ,” Mori mutters.

Money and product exchange hands, and Aya whirls around, giving Mori a beaming grin. “Let’s go find sensei and give him this!” She waves the wallet around in the air.

“Sure,” Mori agrees, with a hint of relief. He didn’t have to do any more prompting -- Aya arrived at that course of action on her own.

“We don’t know where he is,” Yuko points out.

“He said something about getting his shuriken sharpened, didn’t he?”

“I thought he was going to do that tomorrow.”

“Oh. Then he’s probably at the hot springs, then.”

“We’re not going to talk to him while he’s in _there._ Besides, I think he said something about the library?”

“Yuko, since _when_ has sensei ever willingly stepped foot in the library?”

“Whatever,” Mori cuts in, and he thinks of where they found Ryuu’s body after the attack. Already, his feet are moving in that direction. “I’m pretty sure he’s refilling his tea stock, he’s probably at the tea shop --”

“Wait,” Aya says suddenly. She twirls around, eyes darting around the area. “Do you -- do you feel that?”

Mori freezes midstep.

He recognizes that aura, as much as he doesn’t want to. He _knows_ that aura, that cloud of darkness and pure demonic _hatred_ , that cloud of corrosive chakra that fills his heart with rage.

The sky is a dusty purple. There’s still a sliver of sunlight behind the hills, and Mori curses.

 _It’s early?!_ He thinks. The moon hasn’t even risen yet, and the sun isn’t completely gone. How can it be here? _It’s too soon, it can’t --_

Ahead of them, there’s the sound of an explosion. A column of fire and an ominous shape suddenly appear in the south side of the village -- and the silhouette of a nine-tailed fox fills the sky.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and he breaks into a sprint.

He’s too late. The Kyuubi attack has begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Iruka, okay? He's the best. And also will be playing a major role later on.
> 
> I hope you guys don't mind cliffhangers ;)
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated! Thank you!


	4. The Kyuubi, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mori's not having a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter's kinda long? I just wanted to hit a whole bunch of plot points before the next chapter, so
> 
> *jazz hands*

“Hayakawa!”

“Mori, wait!”

Mori distantly hears the yells of his teammates behind him as he rushes towards the Kyuubi. He doesn’t waste any breath replying as he sticks his foot onto a wall and runs up to the rooftops. The Kyuubi roars -- the sound makes his head throb and his jaw clench.

_ You killed my family, _ he thinks, and he sprints ever harder.

“Mori!”

Something snags onto the back of his jacket, and he whirls around, a wild look in his eyes. Aya is gripping the fabric so tightly that he can feel it begin to rip. Yuko steps forward and stares him straight in the eyes.

“Mori,” she says, her voice calm and collected even as the village begins to burn. “We can’t just rush in.”

Right now, he wants to snap at her, remind her that she doesn't understand -- their sensei is going to  _ die  _ if they don't act. 

But that thought also drains away his anger. She  _ doesn't  _ understand. He hopes she never has to. 

“Right,” he says, shaking away the panic and rage clouding his focus. Even when he’s a jounin and Yuko’s a chuunin, he can’t help but defer to her leadership.

“That goes for you too, Aya,” Yuko says. “We can't panic and rush in, okay?”

Aya presses her lips together and nods. She slips sensei’s wallet into her back pocket and takes a deep breath.

“First priority is to defend the village,” Yuko says. “Sensei’s strong. He’ll be fine.”

_ No, he won’t, _ Mori thinks, but he feels his heartbeat slow down a little as he reorients himself and establishes focus. His first priority is always to defend the village.  _ Konoha comes first, _ says Ryuu-sensei _. Look out for each other. _

Closing his eyes, he calls back his ANBU training and starts to focus.

_ Identify. Analyze. _

“We’re in the northern area of the village,” he says, voice low. “The threat is in the south. It’s a giant fox thing. Threat level…”

“Way above our pay grade,” Yuko fills in. The veins around Yuko’s eyes throb, a sign that her Byakugan is active. “That thing is a chakra powerhouse.”

For the first time since his return, Mori is glad he's a chuunin. He's not the cannon fodder getting tossed at the bijuu for once. 

Aya lets out a shaky laugh and clenches and unclenches her hands. “Okay. So, a giant fox,” she says. “We’re chuunin, we can’t fight it, so… we defend the village. Limit the damage.”

“Evacuation,” Mori says, even as he tries to remember the quickest route to get to Ryuu-sensei’s body. “Get the civilians and the injured to safer areas.”

“Clear the roads,” Yuko adds. “Aya, you’ve got chakra, right? We may need some healing jutsu.”

“Yeah,” Aya nods, glancing down at her fingers. “I'm good.”

“We can split up, cover more ground --”

“No,” Mori cuts off Yuko, hoping that the panic in his voice isn't too obvious. He can't let any of his teammates out of his sight. He doesn't want to try and track them down only to find a body. “We don't know what that thing does. Stick together.”

Yuko holds his gaze for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

Mori lets out a relieved breath and looks in the direction of where sensei’s body should be. The Kyuubi looms over the village, its malevolent red chakra filling the air and weighing down like a mountain. Its nine tails drift through the air, and Mori feels the hair on the back of his neck raise. 

The last sliver of sunlight drops below the horizon. It's night. 

Yuko steps in front and takes the lead, scanning the streets below. “There's a collapsed building up ahead,” she says, crouching down and preparing to run. “Let's go.”

* * *

Mori’s eyes water as they draw closer to the Kyuubi. The smoke in the air burns his throat, and he feels like he won't ever breathe in a fresh breath of air ever again. 

He channels chakras to his arms, enhancing his strength, and struggles to move a large rock. He lifts it up as best as he can with one hand, and tugs out the woman trapped underneath with his other. Once she's out, he drops the debris, kicking up a cloud of dust that makes his eyes water and his throat constrict. Coughing, he scans the woman for injuries. Her legs are broken.

“Aya,” he coughs out. 

“I'm here.”

She comes up, hands glowing with green chakra, and carefully knits together the break. 

“Alright, that's good,” Mori says. The bone is knitted together, but there’s still a deep cut. Aya slumps over and massages her wrists. Mori uses a quick water jutsu to clean the wound and wraps it with a roll of bandages. The woman hisses in pain, but nods gratefully at them.

“Save your chakra,” Mori orders. There’s even more people ahead of them that need serious medical attention, and there’s only so many ninja that know medical jutsu and can use it on the field. 

Aya nods and gets to her feet. Together, Mori and Aya help the woman to a standing position. Yuko hands her a thin wooden beam as a makeshift crutch.

“Head north,” she says, and the woman nods as she hobbles off. The Kyuubi roars in the distance, and Mori screws his eyes shut. The crackling of flames mingles with the sounds of distant screams.

This is the third time he’s watching Konoha burn.

“This street is clear,” Yuko says, after scanning the area once more. She rubs her eyes and deactivates her Byakugan, blinking hard. “Let’s go.”

They move further south, picking their way through the rubble. Shouts sound out in the distance, combined with the faint roar of the Kyuubi no Kitsune. The beast is no longer within the walls of Konoha, but Mori can still feel the hatred and killing intent lingering in the air.

Mori stretches out with his chakra and senses the area around him, searching for Ryuu-sensei’s chakra signature. They’re pulling up to where they found him last time. Mori wonders if he's changed enough of the past to change Ryuu’s fate.

Pinned down under a heavy shelf. Broken legs, drained of chakra, and unable to escape. Ryuu-sensei and Aya, both crushed under the same roof. 

When they walk past a familiar tea shop that’s still mostly intact, Mori lets out a quiet breath.

_ He's not there, _ he thinks.  _ Sensei and Aya should be safe. _

Maybe something good did come out of the Kyuubi’s early timing. Mori’s sure that, had it really attacked after sundown like it originally did, Shima Ryuu would be bleeding out under that building right now.

“Guys.”

Yuko’s sharp voice drags Mori out of his thoughts, and he turns around. She’s standing across the street, peering at a broken down building with her eyes activated. “Someone’s trapped under some rubble in there.”

_ Sensei? _

“Do you know who it is?” Mori asks, panic leaking into his voice.

“Some civilian,” Yuko says, and Mori relaxes minutely. “We need to get this debris out of the way.”

“On it,” Aya steps forward, channeling chakra to her hands.

“Don’t,” Mori cuts in, and Aya turns around, confused.

“You’re the only one among us that knows medical jutsu,” Mori says quickly. “We’ll need that. You’re already getting tired.”

“I’m fine,” Aya insists, but the heaving of her shoulders says otherwise.

“It’s kind of large, though,” Yuko says, and she kicks out the door, revealing a pale hand sticking out from under a rather worrying chunk of building.

“I know a couple Doton techniques,” Mori says, stepping up. Aya and Yuko watch on as he flies through a couple of hand seals. A wall of earth rises up in front of him, lifting up the wreck.

Yuko reaches out and drags out the victim from underneath the debris. They let out a soft moan at the movement, and Aya kneels down, checking for any critical damage. Mori releases his jutsu with a grunt.

“Can you hear me?” Aya asks.

The person nods. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to heal your legs, okay?” Aya says. “But I can’t heal the rest of you. Do you think you can make your way to the hospital?”

The hospital is a few blocks away, in a safer direction. The person nods. Aya runs her glowing green chakra down their legs, healing the cuts and lacerations and reducing the swelling in their ankles. Once she finishes, she slumps over, breathing hard.

Yuko and Mori help the person to their feet and point them in the direction of the hospital.

“Aya,” Yuko says. “Do you need a break?”

“I’ll be fine,” Aya grits out, and she rises to her feet. “I’ve got a few more healing sessions left in me.”

Mori bites his lip in worry. In the hour and a half since the Kyuubi first appeared, she’d already healed a good amount of people. Aya wasn’t cut out to be a medical ninja -- it didn’t come naturally to her -- but she learned for the sake of helping Team 14 get through the war.

Yuko stares at her with her Byakugan, no doubt assessing the remaining chakra in her teammate. “We’ll take it easy, then.”

They continue their trek across a burning Konoha, leaving behind the empty tea shop. Despite Aya’s weariness, Mori feels hope swell inside of him. Maybe  _ all  _ of them can walk out of the attack alive.

* * *

He’s able to focus more of his energy on search and rescue, now. They come across a few more victims, trapped under burning buildings or hindered by their injuries. Aya strictly rations her chakra, only healing the bare minimum to make sure all the injured can make their way to the hospital for better treatment. Occasionally, Mori calls up the few Doton jutsu he knows and uses them to move large pieces of rubble and clear the path. Yuko comes through with a couple Suiton jutsu and extinguishes a few fires.

She’s halfway through the hand seals when suddenly Aya grabs her hand.

“What is it?” Yuko asks.

Aya lifts her head up and sniffs the air. Mori holds his breath as a haunted expression falls across her face. 

“No,” he breathes out.  _ I thought it had changed! _

“Sensei,” Aya breathes out, eyes wide, and Mori’s blood runs cold. He reaches out to grab her hand, but it’s too late.

“Aya, wait!”

The girl dashes up ahead of them, sprinting forward in a desperate attempt to reach their mentor. Mori is a second behind, straining to catch up to his teammate.

_ Why hasn’t it changed? _ He thinks, running after her with everything he has.  _ I can’t let them die! _

“Ryuu-sensei!” Aya screams. Her hands begin to glow green with medical jutsu and she hops over a fallen beam in her race against time.

“Aya!”

Mori’s too slow for his faster teammate, so he channels chakra to his legs and pushes himself beyond his limits. The smoke and ashes in the air make it hard to breathe, but he can’t slow down. The fallen buildings around him blur as he runs by, and Mori feels his panic grow.

_ This isn’t the same spot, _ he thinks.  _ Why is this still happening? _

Behind him, Yuko is yelling at them both, trying to get both of her teammates to calm down. The three of them draw closer to the burning ruins. Ahead of them, Mori spots the dark hair of his mentor, the rest of his body pinned down underneath a large rock. The burning beams above him teeter dangerously, threatening to collapse and crush him underneath the rubble.

The ground rumbles, and Mori panics.  _ I can’t let Aya die. _

“Aya!”

Automatically, his hands fly up and rush through the seals -- tiger, boar, ox, dog, snake -- and in a puff of smoke, Aya stumbles at the abrupt change in surroundings as he performs a  _ Kawarimi _ with her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she yells, and attempts to shove past him. Mori catches her wrist and holds her fast even as she sends a full-powered kick to his shins.

“Aya?” A weak voice sounds out, and the three chuunin turn their heads at the sound of their sensei’s voice. He’s lying twenty feet away. There’s an entire floor of a burning building above him, and Mori winces at the sound of the beams beginning to break.

“Sensei!” Aya ruthlessly bites Mori’s wrist, and he lets go in shock. She rushes forward. “Sensei, I’ve got you --”

“No!” Mori swings out leg and trips her. She hits the ground face first, and he grabs her arms and pins her to the ground.

“What are you three doing here?” their sensei demands, his voice harsh. He’s obviously surprised to see them. “Go wait with the other kids! Get out of here!”

“No!” Aya yells. “Hayakawa, get the  _ fuck _ off of me --”

“Masuko,” Ryuu says, his voice sharp and demanding. “Go!”

_ “Fuck you!” _

Aya shifts her weight and twists, catching Mori off guard. She pulls back her elbow and hits Mori in the gut, causing him to double over and gasp for air. Yuko barks out an order --  _ wait! _ \-- but it’s ignored as Aya scrambles to her feet and takes a step forward.

But as soon as she does so, there’s the sound of splintering wood. A flaming beam falls just in front of her, missing her face by a hair. Mori lifts his head up and watches with wide eyes as the rest of the supports give way, and the entire building collapses onto Shima Ryuu.

“No!” Aya screams. She takes another step forward, but Yuko grabs her arm and pulls her back, getting a fist to her chest for her efforts.

“Aya!” Mori stumbles forward and grips the hysterical girl, holding on with everything he’s got.

“Sensei!”

Her voice tears at her throat, coming out in a painful scream. Mori screws his eyes shut as Aya screams for their mentor. 

“It’s too late,” he says weakly. He stares at the burning pile of rubble with dead eyes. “It's… It's too late.”

“Fuck you!” she yells. She whirls around, an inferno in her eyes, and viciously pounds on his chest. “You  _ let _ him die! Why didn’t you let me  _ save  _ him?!”

She kicks his shins again, but Mori keeps his grip. His jaw is clenched as Aya’s words hit him like a slug to the face.

“Aya!” Yuko says sharply. “Calm down!”

“Go to hell!” she yells. She screams curses and biting words while Mori keeps his breathing steady and grips her tight. Yuko is peering into the wreckage with her Byakugan activated, and she turns to Mori and shakes her head, her eyes threatening to spill over.

Mori can’t even bring himself to cry, instead feeling only a resigned numbness settle over him.

_ Sensei is dead, _ he thinks.  _ I failed. _

Aya lets out an angry sob as the last of her energy slips away. She hangs limply in his arms, weeping as the village burns around them. Mori closes his eyes and grits his teeth together.

_ Again, _ he thinks, and his jaw clenches even tighter.  _ You killed him again. _

He lifts his head up and glares at the figure of the fox in the distance. There’s no way it could possibly feel his glare, but it almost seems to turn in his direction. 

_ What did you expect? _

He’d let down his guard after the tea shop -- slowed down, relaxed. He thought that they were safe, that they were home free. 

_ I’m an ANBU, damn it, _ he curses himself.  _ I should’ve known better! _

Mori takes in a shaky breath. He can feel the ash building up in his throat and flinches. He’s running low on chakra -- they all are. Under normal circumstances, he could probably drag out his reserves for a few more hours, but considering the smoke inhalation and everything else...

“We have to --” he cuts off to cough, the dirt in his lungs begging to get out. “We have to go… have to get out of here...”

“Yes,” Yuko says quietly. But she doesn't attempt to move, only continues to stare at the wreckage. 

She's not moving. Aya is still weeping.

_ Sixteen years old, _ he thinks.  _ So young.  _

Mori straightens his spine and breathes in.  _ Sensei is dead, _ he thinks,  _ but Aya is still alive. _ He had changed something. He, and Aya, and Yuko are all still standing. That has to count for something, right?

He's the jounin here. He has a team to lead. 

“Shut that off,” Mori orders Yuko, slipping into his ANBU voice.  _ Stop looking, _ he pleads.  _ Don't torture yourself.  _

Yuko slowly tears her eyes away from the rubble and deactivates her Byakugan. Her hands drift up and rub at her eyes, partially from the strain and partially to wipe away tears. 

“Here.” Mori shifts Aya around. Aya protests weakly as Yuko mechanically steps underneath and leans the other girl on her shoulder. “I'm going to take point.”

Yuko nods mutely. She and Aya lean on each other as Mori sends out a tendril of chakra, attempting to find the safest way out of the danger zone. 

Sensei’s voice rings through his mind.  _ Keep an eye on them for me, okay? _

Mori picks a path and carefully leads Yuko and Aya through the ruins, heading to the less damaged north. Aya is spent, physically and emotionally, and Yuko isn't far behind. There's nothing more they can do except to take a break. 

They stumble across the streets. The screams and the crackling of burning buildings blend together until it becomes background noise. Mori’s hearing seems to warp, until everything sounds like it's underwater. He leads Aya and Yuko with a mechanical numbness, automatically moving away debris and clearing the roads for anyone else who might end up passing through here.

_ Get them out of here, _ he thinks, pushing his grief to the back of his mind. He can’t slow down, not yet.

Mori extends his senses, taking care to avoid pitfalls and blocked roads. His feet burn painfully and he's pretty sure he's bleeding in several places on his legs. 

There's a familiar throbbing in the back of his head, signaling the beginning stages of chakra exhaustion. Mori bites his lips. Exhaustion is bad enough, but combined with a lack of oxygen and smoke inhalation, he wonders if he can lead Aya and Yuko all the way out. 

Suddenly, he feels a chakra signature close by. Mori whips his gaze around and narrows in onto a burning building, feeling his heartbeat pick up. 

He counts the chakra signatures. Three -- no, four people trapped inside.

He hesitates for only a moment before taking action. He rips off a strip of his shirt and ties it around his nose and mouth, using it as a screen against the smoke.

_ I can't let anyone else die tonight _ , he thinks.

Behind him, Yuko yelps, startled at the movement. “Mori?” she asks, voice hoarse.

“Stay here,” he commands, and he darts forward.

Yuko’s eyes widen in realization. “Wait!” she cries out. “ _ Don’t leave  _ \--”

Mori kicks in the door to the building and enters in. 

Flames lick at the edges of his vision. He picks his way through the fire, feeling his skin blister and burn. He closes his eyes and channels chakra to his ears, enhancing his hearing. 

Behind the crackling flames, he picks out the sound of faint crying. Mori’s eyes snap open and he runs up the stairs, the floor cracking under every step he takes. 

It's too easy to shove in through the charred door. He comes across a family -- three young, crying children clustered around an unconscious woman. 

“Hey there,” he says soothingly, wincing as the house next door teeters over and begins to collapse. 

The oldest of the kids, not even ten years old, stares at him with wide eyes. Mori thinks of Kenji and his broken corpse. 

_ No one else is dying tonight.  _

Mori tentatively takes a step forward, searching out the most stable parts of the ground. 

“Let's get you guys out of here, okay?” Mori smiles at them, and then remembers that he's wearing a strip of cloth around his mouth. But the message seems to get across, because the youngest one sniffles and clutches onto his pants leg. 

“Kaa-san,” the oldest child says. His hands are fisted into his mother's sleeve. 

“I've got her,” Mori assures the kid. “We're going to head downstairs, okay? Can you lead your siblings?”

The boy nods. Mori carefully detaches the youngest child and hands him to his older brother. The middle child, a girl, grips onto her brother's arm, and they nod, ready to move. 

Mori takes a look around him. The building is close to falling apart. Logically, he should drag the woman on the ground to prevent smoke inhalation but at this point, speed is looking more important. 

He hefts the woman up and smiles at the kids. 

“Follow me,” he says. 

He takes light steps, avoiding weak spots and pitfalls in the wood beneath his feet. The children behind him repeat every step he takes. 

There are fourteen steps on the stairs, he thinks. Fourteen steps between them and safety. 

Mori leads them out onto the hallway and coughs, eyes burning from the smoke. His lungs burn as he walks through the house with wobbly steps. At the top of the staircase, he adjusts his grip on the woman and places a foot down. The wood warps under the weight, but holds fast. 

“Careful, okay?” he warns the kids. 

It's an agonizingly slow crawl down the stairs. Mori has no doubt that Yuko is outside, watching his every move with her Byakugan, and he bites his tongue -- already she's been getting headaches from the prolonged usage. 

The top of the staircase crumbles, and the youngest child screams. 

“It's okay,” Mori attempts to reassure them. “Look! We're almost there!”

The door is just ahead of them, the dark night sky like a lifeline. They're so close. 

Mori finishes the last step and places his feet on solid ground. The kids aren't far behind.

“Okay,” Mori says, and he shifts the woman’s weight in his arms. “Almost there.”

The beams above them groan threateningly. Ten feet, he thinks. You can do anything for ten feet. 

Mori takes a step forward. Suddenly, a scream rips through the air -- and he freezes at the sound, the house around him fading into a burning forest. 

Yuko, mask broken, bleeding out on the forest floor. The Kyuubi turns on him, eyes glowing and claws extended.

“Mori!” she screams. 

_ I'm sorry,  _ he wants to say.  _ I couldn't save you either --  _

“ _ Mori, look up!” _

The order slams into his mind, and his eyes flick upwards. Immediately, he drops the woman to the ground. His hands blur as he runs through the seals --

“Doton: Rock Shelter!”

A wall of earth rises up around them, leaving them in darkness as it closes into a dome. The falling beam slams into the dome of earth shattering into pieces. Behind him, the kids scream -- but the sound is distant, fading in and out of his hearing. His head begins to spin.

_ Fuck, _ he thinks.  _ I've hit my limit.  _

Though it's still smoky, Mori tiredly pulls off his makeshift mask and gasps for breath. He groans and falls to his knees, panting with exhaustion. It's dark -- he can't tell if his vision is fading or if that's just the darkness of the earth dome. 

“Yuko,” he coughs out, praying that she can hear him. He tips over, falling to the ground with a quiet thump, and he forces the words out as loudly as he can. “Yuko,  _ get us out… _ ”

* * *

He wakes up with a crick in his neck. Groaning, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and massages his shoulders. 

“You’re up!”

He snaps to attention. Yuko is sitting on the floor a few feet away. He's lying on a makeshift bed, a thin bedroll spread out over the cobblestones of the street. 

Mori looks around. He's on the ground in front of the hospital. Ninja and medics run around, carrying patients and victims in and out of the doors. 

Mori turns a questioning look onto Yuko. 

“You passed out,” Yuko says, looking immensely relieved to see him awake. “Chakra exhaustion and smoke inhalation. Since you didn't have any life threatening injuries, they put you outside; they need all the room they can get.”

“How long has it been?”

“Three hours,” she says. “The family you saved is okay. I, um, I saw your dad.”

Mori’s stomach flips. “Is he okay? How's Kenji?”

“They're fine,” she reassures him. “Your dad's in for a broken arm. Kenji’s safe. Izo’s watching him, took him to the Nara Compound for the night.”

Mori lets out a breath. His father and brother are safe. They survived. Bless Izo and his entire clan.

“After you made that dome, a couple of jounin showed up. They were trying to send us away -- apparently they rounded most of the teens and kept them out of the fight behind a barrier seal. But I told them about you and they got you out of your dome.”

“Oh.”

Mori licks his lips. His mouth is too dry. Yuko notices the action and hands him a bottle of water, and he laps it up gratefully. 

He sets down the bottle and replays the events of the Kyuubi attack. 

Suddenly, he flicks his head up, eyes wild. “Aya.”

Yuko flinches.

“Is she okay?” Mori pleads, the hint of hysteria in his voice threatening to take over. He fists the blanket.  _ Don't tell me I failed her too -- _

“She's fine,” Yuko says quietly. But she looks away, letting her bangs cover her eyes. Mori feels a sinking in his stomach.

“What's wrong?” he demands. 

Yuko refuses to meet his eyes as she opens her mouth. “She’s… not speaking to you.”

Mori bites his lip. Aya’s angry words ring in his head. 

_ Why didn't you let me save him? _

He looks away, eyes burning. Sensei is dead. Crushed underneath a burning building. Despite his efforts, Mori couldn’t change his fate.

_ I don't really blame her,  _ Mori thinks bitterly.  _ It's my fault he's dead _ . 

If only he'd been faster, planned more carefully. He should’ve kept a closer eye on him, he should have stayed by the man’s side… then maybe sensei would be alive to teach a new genin team next spring. 

“But… Aya’s alright?” he asks, voice small. He doesn't know if he can bear it if he failed to keep her safe, too. “She’s okay, right?”

Yuko nods. “She’s just tired.”

Mori closes his eyes, partially in relief, and partially in guilt.

_ I’d rather have her hate me and be alive, _ he thinks,  _ than to have her die again. _

“What about you?” he asks, not sure if he wants to hear the answer. Bad enough that Aya hates his guts. He doesn’t think he can stand it if Yuko hates him, too.

“I’m…” Yuko’s voice wavers, and she looks away again. “I’m… dealing.”

Mori watches her turn away from him, concern in his eyes. He bites his lip again and casts his eyes downwards.

He didn’t save sensei. He’s the reason why she’s grieving right now. Mori clenches his hands into fists, feeling his fingernails dig into his palms.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I… I should’ve been faster --”

“Shut up!” Yuko snaps out, though it comes out more exhausted than anything else. “Just… shut up.”

The silence settles on them like an icy blizzard. Mori shivers uncomfortably, and the movement makes his head hurt.

“We could’ve saved him,” Yuko bites out, but there’s a hint of desperation in her voice. “You and Aya… you’re always rushing ahead. We could’ve… I should’ve been a better leader, I should’ve --”

“No,” Mori cuts her off, the words spilling out of his mouth. “You did everything you could, it’s not your responsibility to --”

“Isn’t it?” Yuko asks, and she meets his gaze. Her eyes are red-rimmed and watery, but they’re narrowed in a cold fury. “Tell me, Mori --  _ tell  _ me that I’m not the leader, huh? Tell me that it wasn’t my fault. Why don’t you take  _ all  _ this off my hands?”

“You think that I don’t feel guilty, too?” Mori snaps. “Damn it, Yuko, we’re a  _ team _ \--”

“Exactly!” she cries out. “We’re a team, and I’m your leader!  _ I’m _ supposed to look out for you guys,  _ I’m _ supposed to know what to do when everything falls apart! I didn’t even react when Aya ran off, I just stood there and  _ froze.” _

She ducks down and hides her face in her trembling hands.

“He was… he died instantly,” she whispers, not moving her head. “There was a nail in the beam, it ran right through the back of his neck…”

“I told you to not look,” Mori whispers back. He screws his eyes shut. 

_ At least it was quick… _

“I hesitated,” she chokes out. “All those missions and battles in the war, and when sensei needed me, I hesitated…”

Mori presses his lips together.  _ You’re sixteen, _ he thinks. She's too young for survivor's guilt, too young to be scarred by war. But that’s not something he can say out loud, so he just sits there, silently grieving. Yuko sinks lower to the ground. 

_ I failed.  _

Shima Ryuu is dead. Masuko Aya hates his guts. Hyuuga Yuko is wracked with guilt.

Mori never intended it to turn out this way.

“Go find Aya,” he says in a soft voice. “She needs someone right now. You both need someone right now.”

“And what about you?” Yuko asks. 

“I’ll be okay. I just… I need to do something.”

Yuko stares at him for a long time, evaluating his words. Finally, she shifts her weight and shakily gets to her feet. 

“...Your dad's on the third floor,” Yuko says. “Mori…”

“I'll be fine, I promise,” he says. 

“Aya’s taking it really hard,” Yuko says, pained. “I don't … I’m sorry...”

“It’s fine,” Mori manages to get out. “I… it's fine. Just go, she needs you more than I do.”

_ I deserve it, anyway, _ he thinks to himself, curling up in guilt. Aya and Yuko might not know about the time travel, but they're right about one thing -- their sensei should be alive right now. 

* * *

It's a long night. Mori visits his father in the hospital. From what his dad tells him, Izo had kept his word, keeping his father distracted with shogi until sundown. When the Kyuubi attacked, it had set off a panicked stampede, leading to his father's broken arm. But Izo led both his brother and father out of the danger zone and to the Nara Compound. 

“That's a good friend you have,” his dad says, a grateful smile on his face. 

“Yes,” Mori agrees. Izo, for all his smug arrogance and stupid jokes, is a reliable friend. Mori has teamed up with him on more than one occasion in both his new present and his future -- the Nara had a knack for creating ridiculous plans and strategies on the fly.

“You should go get Kenji,” his dad says. “He’s worried about you.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Mori says, getting to his feet. “If you’re still here tomorrow, we’ll visit.”

His dad nods, all the while maintaining a cheerful smile. Mori walks out of the room and down the hallway, dodging the chaos and keeping his eyes down.

_ There’s so many injured, _ he thinks. He glances up as an old woman is rolled by on a stretcher. Her shoulders and arms are burnt, and she’s bleeding from several cuts on her legs and feet.

Mori turns away, unable to help feeling the guilt. The precautions he and the Yondaime had planned out hadn't worked. Something unexpected, something Mori didn't know about the attack, must have happened.

Mori ducks out of the hospital doors and looks at the sky. Though it’s still night, there’s an odd glow in the southern parts of the city, where fires are still raging. Shinobi rush across the rooftops, and smoke fills the sky, blocking out the stars.

_ Nara Compound, _ Mori thinks. He brings his hands together into a tiger hand seal and flickers away in a puff of smoke.

When he appears in front of the compound gates, he’s immediately frozen -- trapped in the shadows of one of the guards.

“What is your business here?” the guard demands.

Mori doesn’t blame him for the hostility -- half the village is in flames, and the rest of it is filled with panicked people.

“I’m here for my brother,” he says. “He’s with Nara Izo.”

“Izo, huh?” one of the other guards lifts an eyebrow. “You’re Hayakawa?”

“Yes,” Mori says. “Hayakawa Mori.”

The guard that has him trapped scrutinizes him for a second more before dropping the jutsu. “You can pass.”

Mori stumbles when he suddenly regains the ability to move, but he catches himself and sketches a quick bow to the guards. Then he rushes into the compound, stretching out his chakra and searching for his brother. 

He narrows in on a familiar feeling and makes his way towards a small building in the corner of the compound. 

Even before he knocks, Izo opens the door. 

“Hey --”

_ “Nii-san!” _

Mori falls over as his younger brother barrels into him, slamming his butt onto the ground with a solid  _ thump.  _

“You're okay!” Kenji sobs, and Mori squeezes his brother tightly. 

“I'm okay,” Mori agrees, feeling his eyes tear up. Kenji buries his face into Mori’s dirty vest and Mori’s vision blurs as he smiles.

Izo is grinning in the doorway. Mori shifts his gaze and meets his eyes and mouths a heartfelt  _ thank you.  _

Kenji sobs as he hides his face in Mori’s chest. 

“I thought you were  _ dead!”  _ he cries. “There were so many people and then everything was burning--”

“I know, I'm sorry for scaring you,” Mori says, and he pulls away a little to look his brother in the eye. “I'm glad you're okay.”

“Izo-san was watching me,” Kenji says, and he whirls around to look at the other teen in the room.

Izo shuffles from foot to foot a little awkwardly. “Heh, it was nothing.”

“Thank you,” Mori repeats. He shifts his weight and gets to his feet, his arm still wrapped around Kenji. “I don’t know if I could ever repay you.”

Izo waves it off. “You cashed in a favor. It’s alright, we’re even.”

Mori shakes his head. Kenji and his father are alive because of Izo. “I’ll pay you back.”

Izo crosses his arms and looks away. “Dude,” he mutters. “ _ Don’t. _ ”

Mori cracks a teary grin.

* * *

They end up spending the night in the Nara Compound. Kenji’s too tired and falls asleep minutes after Mori’s arrival, and Izo ends up forcing Mori to stay.

“You’re dead on your feet,” Izo says, after taking in Mori’s scorched clothing and the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. “Put your brother on my bed and I’ll get you a bedroll.”

Mori protests weakly, but it’s unsuccessful -- he really is tired. Izo practically shoves him into the bedroll, and Mori’s out like a light. He’s so tired that he doesn’t even dream, and when he wakes up the next morning he feels marginally refreshed.

Izo is already awake, though he hasn’t actually gotten out of his blankets yet. Mori yawns and stretches, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Early morning sun streams in through the windows, looking oddly peaceful against the memory of the Kyuubi attack.

Mori forcefully shoves that thought out of his mind and gets up.

“Oh, you’re up,” Izo observes, still lying on the floor with his eyes closed.

Mori starts to fold his blankets and roll up the bedroll he’d borrowed. “Well, yeah.”

“Good morning, then.”

Mori shoots Izo an amused smile, though the other probably can’t see it. “Good morning. And thanks. For everything.”

Izo blinks open an eye to stare at him -- a single, dark eye emotionlessly gazing at Mori’s face. “You’re welcome.”

“You could be a little less creepy about it.”

Kenji’s still half-asleep when Mori gets him out of bed. Izo manages to pull himself out of his own bedroll and slips Mori some money as they walk out the door.

“I don’t feel like cooking for you guys, but go get breakfast and pretend that I was a decent host,” Izo says as he places the coins in Mori’s hands.

Mori splutters and tries to push the money back at Izo. “I can’t take this! I’ve already imposed --”

“Shut up, Hayakawa,” Izo says. “It’s only thirty ryo. You can’t even buy a full meal with that.”

Mori feels a vein throbbing in his head. “How is this supposed to pay for breakfast, then?”

“Oh, so you’re  _ not _ opposed to taking it?” Izo says, and he shoves them out of the door. Mori turns around to protest, but Izo’s just leaning on the doorframe with a smug expression.

Mori would cuss out Izo, but Kenji’s still half asleep in his arms. So he settles for glaring at the Nara and makes a silent promise to pay him back.

In both meanings of the phrase.

Mori and Kenji leave the Nara Compound without much fanfare. Kenji shuffles next to Mori tiredly. 

“Are we going home, nii-san?”

Mori doesn't think their house survived the Kyuubi attack, so he just shakes his head. “We're going to find Tou-san.”

They head in the direction of the hospital. There's only a few people out on the streets. Above them, on the rooftops, shinobi are still rushing around, albeit slower than they were last night. Mori whirls his gaze around to look at the south side of the village. 

The fires seem to have stopped. Still, there's going to be a lot of people still trapped there. 

Mori averts his gaze and continues to the hospital. 

Overnight, someone had set up tents outside of the hospital. Rows and rows of people were lined up, with medic-nin and civilian nurses rushing around them. Mori gently guides Kenji through the chaos. 

There's no available nurses at the front desk to tell him where his father is, so Mori closes his eyes and tries to pick out his father’s chakra signature among the crowd. 

“Too many people,” he scowls, and he pushes his way up to the third floor. 

Mori and Kenji weave around the nurses. Mori peeks into the room where his father was last night and sighs -- he's not there. 

“Maybe he went home?” Kenji asks. 

“Oops,” Mori mutters. No doubt their dad is panicking about their whereabouts. Either that, or panicking about their house being burnt down.

He looks around for the nearest stairwell, but there's too many people crowded in the hallways. Mori scowls again -- this was why so many ninja hated hospitals. It's too hard to get out. 

“Alright, hold on tight,” Mori says, and he lifts Kenji up onto his back in a piggyback ride. 

Kenji yelps. “What -- what are we doing?”

Mori’s eyes land on a nondescript window, and he begins to make his way toward it. 

“We’re going to leave the hospital, ninja-style.”

Kenji whoops in excitement as they draw closer to the window. Mori slides open the window and steps out onto the roof. Behind him, there's the sound of a nurse getting ready to scold him, so he slams the window shut and leaps away. 

Kenji laughs as they run across the rooftops. Mori grins and moves a little faster. 

“Hey, you!”

Mori slows to a stop and turns around. He sets Kenji down on the roof and curls a protective arm around him. 

The ninja behind him skids to a stop. He glances at Kenji, and then shakes his head, electing to ignore that little detail.

“Are you headed to the Hokage Tower?”

“We’re headed in that direction,” Mori answers. Their house is fairly close to the Hokage Mountain -- hence why it had burnt down the first time around, when the Kyuubi appeared.

“The Sandaime is going to make an announcement,” the ninja replies.

“Oh,” Mori says. It would make sense that the Hokage would make some sort of statement about the attack, probably to reassure the people and give out further instructions on the search and rescue efforts. But then the ninja’s wording registers in his mind.

“...Not the Yondaime?” Mori asks slowly, his mouth drying up.

“You didn’t hear?” the ninja asks.

Mori feels sweat gathering on his palms, feels his heartbeat pick up. His grip on Kenji tightens slightly, and the younger boy glances up at him, worried.

“The Yondaime’s dead,” the ninja says. “He died while fighting the Kyuubi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORI MY POOR CHILD WHY DID I DO THIS TO YOU. WHY DID I HURT THESE CHILDREN AYA YUKO NOOOOOOOO
> 
> Like, I want all these characters that I made up to be happy? And friendship? And I totally have the power to write that but like. Ha.
> 
> I swear I know how to write without angst but oop it happened.


	5. The Kyuubi, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a future out there. Somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really fun chapter to write? It was just. A lot of fun.

The monotony of D-ranks is oddly comforting in the aftermath of the Kyuubi. With it, Mori can lose himself in the grunt work and forget the shitstorm that his life has become.

It's been a week since the attack, and since then shinobi and civilian alike have been involved in rebuilding the village. Already, a good majority has been rebuilt, and Mori is starting to see the streets he's been familiar with for the past twelve years of his life. It feels a little bit more like home.

There are some differences, though. For one -- he and his family are staying in a temporary home until their neighborhood gets rebuilt. It fills Mori with glee, the idea of being able to _live with his family._ He doesn't have to come home to an empty apartment, he can have dinner with his dad and his brother.

On the other hand… Aya is completely avoiding him, and by extension, Yuko. He’d only seen the Hyuuga once this week, and they only got the chance to talk in passing before Aya showed up, froze, and ran away.

Mori knows he told Yuko to stick with Aya -- and he still agrees with that decision, Aya really needs someone right now -- but he can’t help but feel a little betrayed. From Mori’s point of view, he and Yuko had been teammates, friends, _survivors_ for nearly two decades. They’d gone to hell and back together. Right now, he really feels the loss of twelve years of history.

“Hey.”

Mori blinks and turns to look at Izo. He looks down and realizes he’d zoned out in the middle of working.

“Hand me another nail, will you?” Izo says.

Wordlessly, Mori complies. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of Izo hammering in a support beam. Mori shakes himself out of his stupor and gets back to work -- helping Izo lift up the beams and carrying them into place.

This is another difference -- him and Izo working together. Mori had attempted to pay the Nara back for the money a few days ago, but he found himself sticking with the teen instead. The separation of his teammates had only reminded Mori of how quiet he is, how little he interacts with anyone outside of team 14. It’s a relief to see a friendly face, to not have to power through rebuilding Konoha on his own.

Izo, for his part, accepts Mori’s presence without so much as a ripple. He doesn’t even make sympathetic comments or try to pry into what happened between Mori and his team. Izo just treats him the way he always has, with bad jokes and sarcasm to fill the silences whenever Mori gets lost in his head. Mori is grateful for that. He doesn’t know if he could handle it if Izo joins the list of people who walk on eggshells around him.

It’s an unnaturally pleasant day. The sky is cloudless, even in late autumn, and there’s just enough of a breeze to counter the warmth of the sun. It’s a nice day -- perfect, even -- and Mori can’t help but think that his sensei would have enjoyed the weather.

If Mori were to be perfectly honest, Shima Ryuu’s death didn’t hurt nearly as much this time around. He’d gotten over his mentor’s death years ago, and though he still feels the guilt and shame of failing to save him, he can’t help but be grateful for the chance to meet his teacher again.

What did hurt was the knowledge that the demon that killed him was still in the village, still _present._ For whatever reasons, Uzumaki Naruto still became the Kyuubi jinchuuriki. For whatever reasons, the Sandaime felt it was a good idea to announce that Uzumaki was holding a demon, prompting the resentment and horror Mori remembers from the future.

It makes it a lot harder, he thinks, to try and fulfill the Yondaime’s order. _Protect Uzumaki Naruto._ Not only does he have to _willfully assist_ in the damn fox’s survival, he also has to deal with protecting the brat from all the other angry citizens as well.

“Ow!”

Mori snaps to attention at Izo’s startled cry, eyes darting around the construction zone and assessing possible threats.

“Dude,” Izo complains, drawing Mori’s attention back to him. “Watch where you’re hammering!”

Mori looks down and grimaces. Izo’s finger is red and throbbing, and the hammer that Mori was using is right next to where his finger once was.

“Sorry,” Mori says.

Izo rolls his eyes and goes back to his part of their rebuilding efforts. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

Mori laughs slightly and returns his focus to the building.

It’s getting close to noon when the framework of the building starts to actually look like a building. It’s break time, and Mori and Izo move over to a shady corner of the construction site to sit down and rest. Mori’s barely gotten any sleep, and his days have been filled with manual labor. He's exhausted, and all too eager to take a break.

Unfortunately, as soon as he sits down, another ninja appears in front of him.

“Hayakawa Mori?”

Mori cracks open a tired eye, and then sits up when he sees who it is. It’s the runner from the Hokage’s office.

“You have a meeting with the Sandaime.”

 _Already?_ Mori thinks.

The day after the Kyuubi attack, he’d filed in a request to see the Sandaime. There wasn’t really a time limit on this meeting, not like for his meeting with the Yondaime, so Mori elected to go through the normal route. Between the rebuilding efforts and running the village (and no doubt the political mess the Sandaime had caused by announcing Uzumaki’s jinchuuriki status) Mori hadn’t expected to be called in for another week at least.

“You’re meeting with the Hokage?” Izo asks, sipping his water bottle.

“I guess so,” Mori says, getting to his feet and wiping the dust off of his pants. He turns to the messenger. “I’ll be there.”

The runner nods and disappears in a puff of smoke. Mori mentally rehearses the monologue he had prepared, hoping that he’ll be able to convince the Sandaime that he’s a time traveling shinobi and not some delusional traitor.

* * *

 

He’s conflicted when he walks into the Hokage’s office. The boxes around the room and the fact that the Yondaime Hokage is not sitting inside just makes Mori think of another failure he’d gone through. On the other hand, it’s a painfully familiar sight to see the Sandaime sitting in the chair, holding his pipe.

He looks tired, though. Not as old as he will be in twelve years, obviously, but there’s a weary set to his shoulders and bags under his eyes that speak of the stress he’s been going through.

 _Peacetime will be good for him,_ Mori thinks.

“Hayakawa Mori,” the Sandaime says.

Mori bows. “Hokage-sama.”

And then Mori blinks and stands up, startled. His eyes dart to the shadowy corner of the room, where there _should_ be an ANBU standing guard, but there’s no one there.

The Sandaime looks unconcerned even as he activates the privacy seals and the door closes behind Mori.

“Minato left me a very interesting letter,” he says, and Mori almost cries in relief in not having to explain the ridiculousness that is his life.

“So -- you know? And you believe my story?” Mori asks. His eyes drop to the Hokage’s desk, observing that a file with his name on it is sitting there, its contents scattered across the desk.

“The message was fairly cryptic,” the Sandaime says. “Understandable -- because if he’s saying what I think he says, it’s imperative that this information does not fall into the wrong hands.”

Mori nods.

“I would like to ask for some clarification, however,” the Sandaime says. “How exactly does this… ‘time travel’ work?”

It's the first time since his arrival in the past the phrase ‘time travel’ was uttered out loud. Hearing it comforts Mori, in a way, as if confirming that _it's all real, this is real._

Mori takes in a deep breath and rubs the seal on his chest. “In theory, if I end up being killed… I’ll wake up in the past.”

“You’re not sure.”

“I’ve only died once,” Mori says, and how weird it is to have that phrase come out of his mouth. “I have no idea if it would work a second time.”

“What a fascinating seal,” the Sandaime murmurs. “If I may ask, who placed it on you?”

Mori sucks in a breath. “An enemy,” he says. “But if all goes according to plan, it won’t be able to threaten the village again, or have a chance to brand someone with this seal.”

The Sandaime stares at him, scrutinizing. It’s obvious that Mori just avoided the question. “Why would an enemy entrust you with this type of opportunity?”

“To ensure its survival,” Mori says, echoing the Kyuubi’s words. “There were no other options. But I'm not planning to give it what it wants.”

The Sandaime presses his lips together, eyes hard. “I trust that withholding this information won’t endanger Konoha,” the Sandaime says, his voice like steel.

“It won’t, Hokage-sama,” Mori replies, equally certain.

“I will have my student, Jiraiya, examine your seal.”

“Of course, Hokage-sama.”

There’s a tense silence for a moment, before the Sandaime nods and moves on.

“And what have you done so far in this time period?” The Sandaime asks.

Mori’s shoulders sag slightly in relief. “I… warned Yondaime-sama about the Kyuubi,” he answers. “I didn’t have much information, though… and it seems it didn’t work.”

The Sandaime’s gaze softens. “You did what you could,” he says. “From what Minato left in his letter, there were many precautions taken.”

“I have changed things,” Mori admits, thinking of his brother's innocent laughter, his father’s kind smile, and Aya’s fearless grin. “There are some people alive right now who should be dead. But…” Mori bows his head. “I am sorry, Hokage-sama. I could not save the Yondaime.”

The Sandaime blinks and looks a little shocked. Then he shakes his head. “I don't even know the full details of what happened that night,” he says. “It is understandable that you did not have enough information.”

“I know some things,” Mori says, thinking. “Yondaime-sama told me about his… connection to Uzumaki Naruto.”

“You cannot tell anyone about his relation to Minato,” the Sandaime orders. “Our peace is fragile. Iwa would do anything to get their hands on the son of the Yellow Flash, he must be protected. And with Minato and Kushina gone, it will be that much easier to get to the boy.”

Mori nods, eyes trained on the floor. He thinks of the Kyuubi, baring its teeth and grinning maliciously.

_You'll save Uzumaki Naruto, of that I have no doubt._

“I understand,” Mori says, his calm voice betraying nothing of the turmoil within.

The Sandaime strokes his beard in thought.

“Is there anything important for the future you can tell me right now?”

He's pretty sure _something_ will happen eventually. At some point. Mori feels a weight on his head, like he's forgetting something really, really important. Right now, though, he can't really think of anything past the Kyuubi and Naruto.

“I will let you know,” Mori says. “It's been twelve years.”

The Sandaime looks a little startled at that, and Mori recalls that he looks like a sixteen-year-old barely chuunin. He thinks of his scruffy, too-long hair and his young reflection.

_I still need a haircut._

“Minato did mention that you were a jounin,” the Sandaime murmurs. “Perhaps a promotion is in order.”

Mori blinks. “Ah, isn't it a bit too soon? I only made chuunin --” he counts the time in his head -- “ten months ago.”

“Nine,” the Sandaime corrects, shifting the papers of Mori’s file around and selects by a sheet. “However, the amount of influence a jounin holds is significantly greater than that of a chuunin. It will be easier to accomplish what you need to with a higher rank.”

 _I think you're overestimating my importance to the future,_ Mori thinks.

Out loud, he says, “It would be suspicious to promote me without cause.”

“... The family you saved,” the Sandaime says, scanning one of the papers in Mori’s file. “Keeping your composure in a crisis. Demonstrating the ability to lead. Practical and effective usage of jutsu, prioritizing the citizens of Konoha. In addition, Nagata Fumie is a former kunoichi -- her word would also contribute to your promotion.”

Mori shifts uncomfortably. “Nagata-san was unconscious.”

“All the more reason to promote you,for demonstrating effective independent reasoning,” the Sandaime argues.

Mori bites his lip. He has nothing to say against a promotion, but… does he really deserve it?

He didn't find enough information to prevent the Kyuubi attack. His sensei is dead. His Hokage is dead. Half the city was destroyed and his actions saved maybe ten people out of the hundreds that lost their lives.

“You've earned it once,” the Sandaime says quietly, as if he was reading Mori’s thoughts. “To be honest, Hayakawa-san… I'm impressed. You said you saved lives. Already you have made a difference, and it has only been two weeks.”

Mori presses his lips together. “Thank you, Hokage-sama,” he replies.

He weighs the options in his mind. Stay a chuunin, fly under the radar. Hide his skills, hold back. Be overlooked by those who would otherwise exploit his knowledge of the future. A more limited outlook, but a safer option -- minimize the changes to the past to maximize his knowledge of the future.

Or, he could get promoted. More flexibility, more freedom. The ability to conduct more in-depth research in the deepest of Konoha records. Perhaps some conflict, some eyebrows raised considering his apparent youth, and suspicion from those who know him best.

Such a small choice, in the long run, but one that Mori doesn't want to make. It shouldn't be this hard.

He wishes for more information, wishes he knew exactly what the consequences were. He wants to gather his information and evidence, to sort out the pros and cons and make the most informed decision possible. Considering all the changes he's caused it would be wiser to remain a chuunin until he's sure of the waves he's made. It's a logical choice.

But at the same time…

Mori licks his lips nervously. “I will accept the promotion,” he says quietly, suppressing a guilty wince when he hears the words said aloud.

But so far, he's been thinking of the future as his ‘real’ home. He's been thinking of this whole thing as ‘fixing the past’ and not of ‘creating a future’. He's looking at his friends and seeing ghosts. He walks through Konoha like he's in a dream, one foot in the past and the other on the future.

_This is my present, now._

It's about time he embraced it, fully.

* * *

 

Nara Izo is the only one of his few friends there to receive the news of his promotion, but the teen seems disproportionately excited to hear of it.

“Dude, that's awesome,” Izo says, grinning stupidly. “Ha. 'Jounin Hayakawa Mori' has a nice ring to it, eh?”

“Thanks,” Mori says, scratching the back of his neck. He's still a little uncertain about his decision but it's too late to change it now. “It was kind of unexpected.”

“Well, you did save four people from a burning building and display proficiency in field tactics and jutsu usage,” Izo muses. “Not to mention that you were smart enough to avoid throwing yourself at the Kyuubi. Most of the other teens ended up behind a barrier seal because they wanted to fight. You were a step ahead, already starting on the search and rescue.”

“Search and rescue was Aya’s idea,” Mori says, looking away. “And Yuko was the one who stopped me from jumping in.”

Izo falls silent at the mention of Mori’s teammates. Mori’s certain that Izo gets the gist of what happened, but he's never actually told the other boy the full story.

“Well, either way, we should celebrate,” Izo declares, breaking the tense silence. “We've done all we can over here --” he gestures to the building frame they set up -- “and we don't have to take another D-rank today. Let's go get ramen. On me.”

“You're so cheap,” Mori rolls his eyes, but he follows Izo to the only surviving ramen stand in Konoha -- Ramen Ichiraku.

He knows what Izo is doing, attempting to get his mind off his teammates and make sure he has someone to celebrate with. But even if he can see through Izo’s actions, he smiles gratefully.

“Two miso ramen,” Izo calls out as they duck into the stand. “And two waters.”

Teuchi-san, the ramen chef, nods and gets to work.

Mori turns to Izo, an amused grin on his face. Miso ramen is the cheapest meal on the menu. And water is free. “Seriously?”

“I'm not _rich_ ,” Izo replies without shame. “Not all of us have a jounin's salary.”

“I haven't even been a jounin for two hours.”

“Whatever,” Izo says. “It's not like _you're_ paying.”

“I can pay for myself, you know,” Mori says, reaching for his wallet.

Izo slaps his hand away, and Mori hisses in pain.

“What the hell was that for?” he complains.

“You're missing the point of the celebration,” Izo states. “I said, it's on me.”

“You’re so troublesome,” Mori mutters.

“That's a _Nara_ line,” Izo grins.

Their ramen arrives. It's salty and warm and delicious, just like it always is. The cool water provides a nice counter to the saltiness of the soup, and though cheap, Mori can't deny that it's a decent meal.

Still, Mori falls into a solemn silence. The last time he was in this stand was two weeks ago, with Aya and Yuko by his side.

 _God, I'm pathetic,_ he thinks, swirling the noodles around his bowl. He'd convinced himself that it was better to have Aya hate him than to be dead, but now he just feels miserable and lonely. He realizes, now, just how lucky he had it -- that even just one other member of his team had survived the first Kyuubi attack, that he wasn't a lone survivor. Was this how people felt when they had to lose their teammates?

“Dude,” Izo says, breaking into his thoughts.

Mori looks over.

Izo is picking up some of his noodles with his chopsticks, and he flicks his eyes over to meet Mori’s. “Stop playing with your ramen and eat it,” Izo orders. “Live in the moment! You're a jounin, now. Celebrate it!”

_“What.”_

The familiar voice fills his ears, and Mori whips around to face the speaker. His heart is pounding fast -- part hope, part fear. And when he meets the green-eyed gaze of Masuko Aya, he feels the guilt that's been wearing him down increase tenfold.

“What did you just say?” Aya demands, fierce and unrelenting and cold all at the same time.

Yuko stands beside her, an expression close to panic on her face. She flicks her gaze between Mori and Aya, biting her lip.

Izo says nothing. He only presses his lips together and takes in a slow breath.

The atmosphere is charged with electricity, and Mori knows that one wrong move can set off an explosion.

“Are you telling me,” Aya says slowly, “that sensei _dies,_ that half of our village _burns to ashes._ And you, _you_ of all people get a fucking _promotion?”_

Mori doesn't say anything, but he can't look away either. He continues to meet Aya’s gaze, both of them trapped.

Yuko grits her teeth. “Aya,” she says sharply. “Stand down.”

Aya ignores her warning tone and takes a step forward, eyes blazing. _“Are you fucking kidding me.”_

Mori remains still, the only sign of tension showing in his whitening knuckles. Beside him, Izo’s leaning forward in his seat, prepared to take action should things go south. Yuko is reaching out, and she meets Mori’s eyes, apologizing and pleading all at once.

Mori takes a deep breath.

“Well?” Aya asks, fists clenched.

“I am sorry that sensei is dead,” Mori says. “And… I know I should've done more.”

Aya tenses. “ _Of fucking course you should've done more,”_ she hisses.

“But,” Mori says, his voice hard. “I don't regret saving your life.”

Aya’s eyes flash, but Mori stands his ground. Even when her hand snakes out and grasps his collar, he doesn't let himself shy away. He doesn't regret saving Aya, not one bit, and he has to show her that.

“Nara,” Aya grits out, her teeth gnashing together. “This isn't about you. Let me go.”

Mori breaks Aya’s gaze to glance down at the floor. Her shadow overlaps with Izo’s. She's frozen in place.

Izo, whose hands are in a Rat seal, shakes his head. “We're in a civilian restaurant right now, Masuko. I won't let you cause a disturbance.”

“Nara,” Aya hisses.

Izo stares at her, a calculating gaze in his eye. “I don't care if you two want to duke it out, but you're not doing in here,” he says firmly.

“Fine, then,” Aya says. “Eighteenth Training Ground. No handicaps.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument. Mori wants to beg for forgiveness at Aya’s feet and scream at her until she understands why he did what he did. He doesn't know which.

Behind Aya, Yuko begins to open her mouth.

“I accept,” Mori says quickly, before the other girl can protest. The last thing he wants to do right now is fight a furious Aya, but he also understands _her,_ that if she were ever to forgive him… beating him up would be the first step. She needs catharsis, a release. Mori signals to Izo, who drops his jutsu.

As soon as she can move, Aya drags him out of the ramen stand. Out of the corner of his eye, Mori sees Izo leaving an extra large tip on the counter.

Aya doesn't say anything as she shunshins them both to the training grounds.

* * *

 

She deposits them in the middle of a dusty field, with rough patches of grass scattered about and almost no trees.

Mori grimaces. He’d thought that, perhaps, she’d chosen the Eighteenth Traning Ground because it was close -- but he’d forgotten that it was also the easiest place to use Doton jutsu.

Aya and her earth affinity. No doubt she’s planning to go all out.

Mori takes a deep breath as holds his hand up in a defensive starting stance. Aya is grieving, bleeding out anger and guilt and fear all at once. She’s been bottling it up since sensei died, and Mori know’s he’s going to end up being an outlet.

“Wait!”

Yuko rushes into the grounds, breathing hard. Behind her, Izo jogs in. Yuko opens her mouth to say something else, but then Izo cuts her off.

“Let them fight it out,” he says lowly, so quietly that Mori can barely catch the words. “They both need this.”

Yuko bites her lip and says something that Mori can’t catch. Izo replies almost lazily. Throughout the exchange, neither of them tear their eyes away from Aya and Mori.

“Pay attention, Hayakawa!”

Mori’s eyes widen as he dodges left. Aya lunges forward with a killer kick, her foot brushing past his hair. Her breathing is ferocious, a crazed look in her eye as she catches her balance and turns on him once more.

Mori squares his shoulders and raises his hands up. If he loses, Aya won’t feel better. If he wins, Aya won’t feel better.

 _I’ll just have to hold out until I come up with something,_ he decides, narrowing his eyes.

Aya roars as she lunges for him again, arms outstretched to pin him down on the ground. Mori ducks into her guard and redirects her momentum, sending her flying in the other direction. Aya catches herself mid-air and lands on her feet, eyes blazing.

Mori waits patiently.

“Fight _back,_  asshole!” Aya screams. She slams her palms onto the ground, causing a shockwave that cracks open the earth and knocks Mori off his feet. He lifts his arms up to cover his face -- just in time, as a shower of earth rains down from the sky. The rocks are small, but sharp. By the time Aya is finished, his sleeves are in tatters and his arms are dripping with blood. Mori gets to his feet -- only to dodge another torrent of attacks.

Aya rushes in like a whirlwind, fists flying everywhere. In her anger, she’s sloppy; Mori can see a million different openings. But he doesn’t take them, instead running on defensive instinct.

 _Block, dodge; block, dodge_ \-- his limbs move on their own, and his mind races for a way to finish the fight without widening the gap between him and the rest of team 14.

He redirects another punch from Aya, and she stumbles, breathing hard. Mori retreats a couple steps, in a ready stance, but making no attacks.

“Well?” Aya growls. “Why don’t you show me some of your new moves, _jounin Hayakawa?_ ”

Mori’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t move.

 _I shouldn’t have accepted that promotion,_ he thinks. _I didn’t even consider her or Yuko when I said yes. I was being selfish._

Aya’s glare intensifies. She flies through hand seals and slams her hands on the ground again. Giant spikes of earth rise up out of the ground, catching Mori on the side. Hissing in pain, he retreats until he’s just out of range.

“Are you just gonna run away, asshole?!” Aya yells. With a single hand seal, she drops her jutsu. The spikes shatter as they hit the ground, causing a cloud of dust to rise up in the air. Mori coughs and his eyes water as the flecks of dirt fly into his eyes.

He reaches out with a tendril of chakra, trying to discern Aya’s position -- and then he throws himself to the ground as a rain of shuriken fly through right where he used to be standing.

He rolls over onto his back just as Aya lands at where he was laying, the earth cracking under her feet.

“ _Fight back, damn it!”_ Aya yells, and she lunges for him.

Jutsu are forgotten as they wrestle across the training grounds. Aya is relentless, never pausing in her attacks, and it’s all Mori can do to keep out of her way. He brings his hand up to her shoulder and shoves her off, rolling away and scrambling to his feet.

 _I don’t want to fight you,_ he wants to scream. He sees Aya and he sees her corpse; he hears her yells and he hears her screaming as a building collapses on top of her.

“I don’t regret saving you!” Mori shouts, even as Aya leaps forward, brandishing a kunai in her hand.

Mori slips his own kunai into his hands, and the sounds of metal hitting metal ring throughout the grounds. He’s breathing hard, deflecting Aya’s attacks and dodging those he can’t block. Sweat drips down his head, and his throat is dry from breathing in dust.

“You let sensei _die!”_ Aya screams, slashing at his shoulder. “Do you regret _that?”_

Mori ducks the strike and rolls out of the way, retreating.

“Of course I do,” Mori grits out, replaying sensei’s final moments in his mind. “But I’m not going to let you throw your life away!”

“That’s not _your_ decision to make!” Aya kicks out his knees and stands above him, blade in her hand. As she stabs down, Mori reaches out, catching her wrist and knocking the knife away. He pushes up, forcing Aya to back up. Mori gets to his feet, arms ready to defend.

“You don’t _think!”_ Mori says sharply. “How do you think _I’d_ feel if you died? How do you think _Yuko_ would feel if you died?”

Mori’s teeth hurt from clenching his jaw. He knows the answers to those questions. He knows exactly how lost they’d be, how lonely they’d feel, how horribly _silent_ it would be without Aya to fill in the gaps. They’d be a broken tricycle, still able to wobble along -- but never fully functional. Never the same.

Aya looks stricken for a second, frozen in place. Mori drops his guard, praying that he’d drained away the last of Aya’s toxic rage.

Her eyes are watering, tears spilling out and leaving tracks down her dust-covered face. She chokes out a sob and drops to her knees, her shoulders shaking.

“Shut up!” she screams, a sob forcing its way out of her throat. Shakily, she pulls out another kunai, and pulls back her arm. “Shut _up!”_

Aya flings the kunai. Despite her trembling grip, it flies straight and true.

And then Mori has his solution.

He shifts his weight, stepping to the side just enough so that the blade sinks into his right shoulder. The kunai sinks in up to its hilt, and he drops to the ground with a grimace.

 _Flesh wound,_ he thinks, knowing that with how he planned it, it barely missed the bones and any major blood vessels. But with the blood dripping down the blade and onto his jacket, it probably looks pretty bad.

Aya’s hands clap over her mouth, and her eyes are widened in horror. Mori grits his teeth and brings up his right hand, touching the wound with his fingertips. Already, it’s almost numb -- the adrenaline from the fight pumping through his veins and making the pain a little more distant, taking away the sting.

“Mori!” Aya gasps out, and she scrambles forward.

Footsteps pound on the ground as Yuko and Izo run up to them.

“I’m sorry,” Aya chokes out, hands trembling. “Oh my God, Mori, _I’m so sorry --_ ”

“I’m fine,” Mori gets out, a stupid grin on his face. Aya’s stopped fighting.

“Fine?” Aya shrieks, voice cracking. Her hands fly up, ripping the sleeve off of his tattered jacket and exposing the wound. She tears off part of her pant leg and folds it into a square, pressing it onto the wound as she gently slides out the kunai, taking care to apply pressure the whole time.

She tosses away the blade, the fight forgotten, and calls up a healing jutsu to her hand. The green chakra seeps into Mori’s skin, and her brow is wrinkled in concentration as she mends together damaged muscles and closes blood vessels. By the time she’s done as much as she can, the wound is mostly closed, even though blood is still dripping out onto the rest of his jacket.

Aya slumps over, her arms trembling.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, hands shaking. “I’m so _sorry,_ I could’ve -- I could’ve --”

_I could have killed you._

“But you didn’t,” Mori says quietly.

“You’re so _stupid,”_ Aya sobs. “ _I’m_ so stupid.”

Mori reaches out with his left arm and squeezes her hand. “I’m fine,” he says.

A shadow falls across both of them, and Mori and Aya look up.

And then flinch.

Yuko is standing above them, arms crossed and face cold. “What the hell was that?” she demands, kneeling down until she’s eye-level with both of them.

Mori grins sheepishly as Aya looks down at the ground in shame.

“Aya.”

Aya lifts her head up slightly to meet Yuko’s white eyed gaze. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I was... I was throwing a tantrum. I was reckless. I'm sorry."

Yuko takes a deep breath. “You’re stubborn and brave, and sometimes that’s a good thing," Yuko says. "But Mori’s right. You don’t live in a vacuum. You can’t just recklessly throw your life into danger. There...”

Yuko’s voice breaks here. “There wasn’t anything that could’ve saved sensei. And I think you know that too, Aya.”

A solemn silence falls across the three of them before Yuko clears her throat and moves on.

“You can’t just throw your life away,” Yuko continues. “And you can’t act out recklessly either -- you could seriously hurt someone. We’re sad too, you know? Letting your anger rule you and blind you to common sense isn’t smart or healthy.”

Aya nods and looks down, properly chastised.

“And Mori,” Yuko says, turning to him. “That goes for you as well.”

Mori bites his lip.

“You didn’t even _try_ to talk to Aya until today,” Yuko says. “You’re letting your guilt dictate you -- you didn’t try and talk to us because you thought you deserved it, didn’t you?”

Mori looks down. Yuko had read him like a book.

“You let yourself get beat up,” Yuko says, taking in the multiple lacerations on his arms and the wound in his shoulder. “You could’ve died, and you would’ve forced all that guilt on Aya.”

Mori flinches. Aya’s already feeling guilty for his wound -- a wound he knows he could have dodged. Even if it was for her own sake, to snap her out of her anger… does he really have the right to play with her emotions like that?

“Your life means something too, you know.” Yuko says. “The Kyuubi attack wasn’t your fault.”

Mori almost laughs at that. The Sandaime had said something similar -- that he’d done what he could, that he’d protected even a little sliver of Konoha.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You’re right.”

Yuko nods and looks down. “And… I’m sorry, too.”

At this, both Mori and Aya open their mouths.

“You didn’t do anything!” Aya protests. “Look, I was being a whiny child, and a jerk --”

“You were forced into a corner,” Mori says. “It’s my fault, I forced you to choose between Aya and I --”

“No,” Yuko says, cutting them off. “I made it worse. Even if you wanted me to leave you alone, I stuck with Aya and didn’t even try to reach out to you, Mori. I chose to ignore her bottling up her emotions and coddled her instead. I wasn’t being a good leader, or a good friend. This fight is my fault.”

 _That’s not true,_ Mori wants to protest, and he can tell Aya is about to do the same.

“Well! Everyone messed up, and everyone apologized. Why don’t we take Mori to the hospital and all bond over a late afternoon meal?”

The three members of team 14 whip their heads around. Izo is standing a few feet away, an awkward grin on his face as he attempts to lighten the mood.

By the startled expressions on Aya and Yuko’s faces, they all forgot about him, too.

“Ahh, you didn’t finish your ramen, huh?” Mori asks, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s fine,” Izo says, waving it off. “Come on. If we don’t get that looked at right away, you might not be able to raise your arm above your head ever again.”

Aya flinches. Mori looks at his shoulder and his bloodstained jacket. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”

Aya and Yuko help Mori to his feet, and Mori presses Aya’s makeshift bandage to his shoulder. Aya is glancing at the wound worriedly, and Mori presses his lips together. She could easily get pulled off the mission list, even get demoted back to genin for injuring a fellow shinobi. Mori feels horrible, taking the hit like that to manipulate her into letting go of her anger, but it was the only thing he could think of.

“I guess that spar got a little bit out of hand,” he says.

Aya meets his eyes, and for once she’s silent. There’s a long pause as they walk away from the training grounds, towards the hospital.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “A spar.”

* * *

 

The nurses give them disbelieving looks when they say that Mori got hit with a stray kunai during the spar. They look at him even more suspiciously when he mentions his jounin rank, although Mori can’t tell if that’s because they think a jounin is too skilled to get hit with a stray kunai or that he looks too young.

They heal his shoulder, though, and all the cuts and bruises between him and Aya. He’s not allowed to do heavy lifting for two weeks, and his shoulder is going to be stiff for months afterward. After a strict lecture on being careful during spars, they’re let out of the hospital.

By now, the sun is low in the sky. The four of them -- Aya, Yuko, Izo, and Mori -- walk down the almost healed streets of Konoha, chatting lightly. It’s still a little awkward between them, but the atmosphere isn’t so charged, so tense anymore. They’re grieving, but now, they’re grieving together.

Mori smiles softly. He hasn’t lost his teammates, after all.

“Hey.”

Mori turns to look at Izo, who has a thoughtful expression on his face.

“What?” Mori asks.

Izo is quiet for a moment more before flicking his eyes over to Mori. “You know, I always thought out of the three of you, Yuko would reach jounin first,” he says.

“Thanks,” Mori says dryly, clamping down his panic and hoping his discomfort doesn’t show up on his face.

Izo was right, of course. In another timeline.

“You’re more mature than I thought,” Izo says, grinning at Mori. “You were all jumpy and quiet back in the Academy.”

“I’ve grown up since then,” Mori says, relaxing a little. At sixteen, he and Izo were nothing more than just passing friends. They were on good terms, but never really that close. Izo wouldn’t notice something amiss.

“I suppose,” Izo hums. The way he says it, though, makes Mori nervous. Mori thinks of Ryuu-sensei, in the days before his death, and wonders if his mentor had caught onto the changes in Mori, too.

“Hey!”

An angry yell catches their attention, and a blurry figure rushes by Mori. Ahead of them, a shopkeeper runs out, brandishing a broom.

“Thief!”

Mori’s already turning around, ready to run up and stop the thief, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Aya doing the same. Izo brings his hands up together, looking at the shadows cast by the buildings, and Yuko’s legs are tensed, ready to run.

They don’t do anything, though.

A dark figure drops from the rooftops, blocking the thief’s path. With a single hit, the thief is down, and the shinobi strolls past Mori and his friends, dragging the thief along with him.

Mori’s breath hitches as he catches sight of the logo stitched onto the man’s uniform.

“Here,” the shinobi says, tossing the stolen goods back at the shopkeeper.

“Thank you, shinobi-san!”

The man nods, long dark hair shaking at the movement, and then he shunshins away, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

 _Oh, shit,_ Mori thinks, still staring at where the man last was. _I forgot about that._

“I - I have to go,” he stutters out, and he turns around.

“What?” Yuko turns and looks at him. “We haven’t chosen a restaurant!”

“Sorry,” Mori says, shaking his head. “I just remembered something important. I’ll catch up to you guys at... ah, Yakiniku Q, okay?”

“Um, okay,” Aya says, frowning with concern. “Are _you_ okay?”

“I'm fine,” Mori says, keeping his grin lighthearted and unconcerned. “I’ll be right back. Save me a spot, okay?”

Before anyone else can say anything, he ducks away and shunshins off towards the Hokage Tower. He ignores the guards at the front of the door and leaps onto the roof, slipping past the rest of the guards with the stealth of an ANBU, and he slips into the Hokage’s open window.

The Sandaime starts at the sudden entrance, and Mori’s immediately met with a guard in the room, kunai to his neck.

“Hayakawa-san,” the Sandaime says, recognizing him. “Is something wrong?”

Mori flicks his eyes to the ANBU.

“Leave us,” the Sandaime says, understanding the message. The ANBU is still for a moment, before dropping their guard and backing away. With some hesitation, they exit the office, closing the door behind them.

“I’d appreciate it if you could give a little more warning next time,” the Sandaime says.

“My apologies, Hokage-sama,” Mori says, dropping into an apologetic bow. “But you asked me earlier if there was anything important about the future.”

The Sandaime sits up, sensing the urgency in Mori’s voice.

Mori takes a breath, cursing himself. He can’t believe he forgot about one of the darkest stains on Konoha’s history. He can’t believe he forgot about the massacre of an entire clan at the hands of one traitor.

“We need to do something about Uchiha Itachi.”

  
END PART ONE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's a wrap. For now. Don't worry, there's totally gonna be more.
> 
> Story-wise, I feel like I should have dragged out Mori and team 14's angst more? But like. I just want them to be happy. UGh writing is hard.
> 
> Some fun facts:
> 
> 1) I made up Izo as an excuse to rescue Kenji and Mori's dad, and then I made him a Nara because shogi. But then he ended up becoming a cool character, and his shadow crap came in handy this chapter haha. He's fun to write, although maybe that's because he's exactly like me: lazy, kinda smart, and has a bad sense of humor.  
> 2) It was really hard to pin down the characters of everyone? Like, Yuko has a short temper but she keeps her head in crises. But then Aya's the opposite -- easy-going for the most part, but when she gets serious, _man_ does she get angry. And even though Mori's technically the most mature out of all of them, he's more of a follower type, which is why he defers to Yuko. I like their dynamics but it's a challenge.  
>  3) The only reason they eat at Ichiraku's so much is because it's the first restaurant in Konoha I think of. Also, headcanon that one of the reasons behind Ichiraku's popularity is that it was the only ramen stand to survive the Kyuubi attack. (That, and I'm sure it's delicious too but. Lol.)
> 
> It'll probably be a bit of a longer wait for the next chapter bc I have to outline the next arc but I'll still be around!


	6. The Massacre, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six years later, and Mori can feel the pace picking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA, the massacre begins! Well, not yet actually. But here we are.  
> I'm laughing because Kakashi probably won't show up in this story, ever, but he's like. An inside joke among these characters.
> 
> This takes place six years after the last chapter! There's a time skip! Be aware!

Mori’s eyes are closed. He lays back, hands behind his head on the grass. He can feel the spring breeze drifting across his face, hear the birds chirping in the distance. The leaves rustle above him, and he breathes in the fresh air with contentment.

“Yuko’s late, again,” Aya complains from beside him.

Mori cracks open an eye and grins at his teammate’s disgruntled expression.

Aya’s sitting cross-legged, picking at the grass impatiently. “You’d think that for a  _ Hyuuga _ she’d know some punctuality.”

Mori snorts.

“And on my birthday, too!” Aya says, smashing a fist into her palm. “No respect!”

“You just want to get a gift from her,” Mori says cheekily.

“That’s irrelevant,” Aya waves it off. “The point is, as an accomplished jounin of Konoha, Yuko should be able to get to the training fields on time.”

“She’s only two minutes late,” Mori points out. “That’s not  _ that _ bad. Imagine if our third teammate was  _ Hatake Kakashi. _ ”

Aya bursts out into laughter. “Oh,  _ man. _ That’d be something.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, enjoying the early morning as they wait for their third teammate.

And after another three minutes, two figures become visible in the distance.

Mori squints his eyes and grins.

_ Talk about déjà vu. _

Yuko strides towards the tree with a metal object in her hands. But she has a resigned frown on her face, and the reason for it soon becomes apparent as Mori catches sight of Umino Iruka following behind her.

“Good morning,” Yuko says, and she hands an excited Aya what she’d been carrying. “Happy twenty-second birthday, Aya.”

Aya takes it with a pleased smile. “A toaster! How did you know I needed one!”

“Because I was there when you blew up your last one,” Yuko deadpans, but she’s grinning.

Aya sets the toaster down on top of the fleece blanket Mori had gotten for her and hugs Yuko.

“Now,” Aya says, once she finishes her hug of gratefulness. “Why were you late?”

Yuko turns an annoyed glare onto Iruka. “Mori’s brat started following me.”

“He’s not  _ my  _ brat!” Mori protests, still lying down on the grass.

Yuko lifts an eyebrow at that, as if to say,  _ really, Mori.  _

“Yuko,” Mori complains. “You don’t have to be so  _ rude.” _

“Yeah,” Iruka pipes up. “I haven’t pranked you in two years!”

Yuko rolls her eyes and huffs.

“And anyway,” Iruka says, walking up to Aya, “I wasn’t  _ following _ you, Yuko-san, we were walking in the same direction. Here, happy birthday, Aya.”

“Hell yeah!” Aya says, taking the stick of dango out of Iruka’s hands. She shoves the sweets into her mouth and chews. “Thanks, Iruka-kun!”

Yuko averts her eyes at Aya’s lack of manners, so the girl only chews more loudly.  Aya squeezes Iruka in an overly enthusiastic hug, and Mori finally decides to sit up and get to his feet.

“Where’s Izo?” Yuko asks, looking around the training grounds. “I thought he’d be here by now.”

Mori looks around and shrugs. “He’ll show up eventually.”

“He probably didn’t want to spar so early in the morning,” Aya says, shaking her hair out of her face and tightening her hitai-ate. “Lazy asshole. Iruka, you want to fill in for him?”

“Two-on-two?” Iruka asks.

“Nah,” Aya says. “It’s the obligatory Masuko vs. Hyuuga battle,” she says, rolling up her sleeves with a predatory grin. “This one’s worth double points because it’s my birthday.”

Yuko grins back and tightens her ponytail. “Sixty-seven to sixty-five, my favor,” she says.

“We’ll be even after this,” Aya threatens.

Mori snorts. “I don’t know how you guys keep track,” he says.

Aya waves it off and moves out from under their tree. “Go hang out with Mori,” she tells Iruka. “This might take a while.”

And with that, Yuko and Aya burst into action. Iruka and Mori look on as the girls battle it out, fists flying. 

“Are they always like this?” Iruka asks. “Seriously, every time I meet up with you guys they’re duking it out.”

“I swear that we’re all actually good friends,” Mori says. “They just have a friendly rivalry.”

“Friendly,” Iruka repeats, as Yuko blasts through a column of earth with a high-powered Raiton jutsu. Earth showers from the sky as she jabs at Aya’s knees, who dodges and sends a roundhouse kick at Yuko’s ribs.

“Yep,” Mori says. “How’s it going?”

Iruka turns to Mori, an excited grin on his face. “I got the job!” he says excitedly. “I’ll be an Academy instructor starting next week.”

Oh.

Mori knew this would be coming -- Iruka had told him a couple weeks ago that he’d applied for a position at the Academy -- but he also feels kind of conflicted. On the one hand, it’s another familiar part of the future he aims to protect, but on the other hand… Umino Iruka  _ died _ as an Academy sensei.

Mori had grown pretty fond of the kid during the six years he’d spent in the past. He hadn’t thought of Iruka’s death in a long while, but as the kid grows older, he starts to look more and more like the corpse Mori’s ANBU squad found in the forests. There’s a part of him that wants to tell Iruka to quit the job, to walk away and prevent any chance of his death. He clamps it down.

“Iruka, that’s great!” Mori ruffles Iruka’s hair and beams, none of his apprehension showing on his face. “Good job!”

“Thanks, senpai,” Iruka says, ducking out of Mori’s reach. He reaches up to fix his ponytail. “Passing on the Will of Fire, you know?”

“You’ll do great,” Mori says resolutely. “You’ll be a great teacher.”

Iruka’s face turns red. “I’ll do my best!”

Behind them, Aya lets out a feral yell as she comes at Yuko with a Katon jutsu burning in her hands. Yuko dodges, but tips of her hair are singed and they’re both covered in dust and soot.

“We should spar,” Mori speaks up, an idea forming in his mind.

Iruka blinks at the sudden change in subject and turns to look at Yuko and Aya’s spar. It’s almost scarily violent, but the two girls are grinning fiercely as they battle each other.

“Um. Sure?”

“Great,” Mori says, rubbing his hands together. He grins mischievously, and Iruka takes a wary step back.

_ Izo’s rubbing off on me, _ Mori thinks.

“Rules?” Iruka asks, somewhat apprehensive.

Mori grins. “Academy jutsu only!”

Iruka blanches. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope!” Mori says. “How can you teach children if you don’t know how to use those techniques?”

“I can use the Academy jutsu!” Iruka protests, red-faced.

“So you don’t object to it, then?” Mori asks, smiling innocently. 

“But you're basically restricting us to taijutsu!” Iruka whines. 

“Your taijutsu could use some work too, you know.”

“You're my senpai, not my sensei,” Iruka mutters, but he's got a resigned look on his face as he falls into a taijutsu stance.

Mori inwardly cackles as he gets into his own stance, already planning his first few moves. “Ready?”

Iruka barely has the chance to nod before he stumbles, startled, as Mori performs a quick Kawarimi with him. 

While Iruka is distracted by the sudden change in his surroundings, Mori flicks out a low-level bunshin. He rushes forward, launching an attack on Iruka to give his clones a chance to slip away unnoticed. 

Iruka is no slouch, though -- he dodges Mori’s attacks and returns the blows with a passion.

_ He's grown a lot, _ Mori thinks, recalling the skinny fresh genin he'd met so long ago. This Iruka is a Chuunin, now, and has been for a year. Even in the middle of their spar, Mori grins to himself. Iruka had improved so much during the past six years, and it's heartening to be able to see his growth. 

Still, Mori is a jounin. He ducks and sweeps out Iruka’s legs from underneath him, and as he falls backwards, Iruka flies through the hand seals. With a puff of smoke, a log drops to the earth in front of him. 

Mori instinctively dodges right, narrowly avoiding a kick to his head. He tucks into a roll and comes up, arms raised defensively. 

“Not bad,” Mori compliments Iruka, who responds with a grin and another attack. 

Mori switches gears until he's basically just dodging his way around the clearing. Iruka’s huffing with both exertion and frustration. It's less of a spar than it is an entertaining show. 

“Stay still!” Iruka complains, as Mori hops over a low kick and backs away a few feet. 

“Make me,” Mori retorts. 

Iruka scowls. He fires off another series of rapid punches, which Mori is mostly able to deflect -- though he does get a nice whap to his upper arm. 

_ That's gonna bruise.  _

Behind Iruka, he sees his bunshin get into position. With that, Mori runs through the hand seals and substitutes himself with a rock behind the tree in the training grounds. While unseen, he henges himself into a piece of rock resembling the debris raining down from Aya’s and Yuko’s spar. 

Iruka immediately whirls around and catches sight of Mori’s bunshin. Immediately, he charges forward. Iruka leans back and sends in a roundhouse kick, eyes widening comically as the bunshin disperses into smoke. 

With that, Mori tosses his rock-self up into the air, choosing a trajectory headed straight for Iruka. 

Iruka doesn't think much of it, still focused on finding the true Mori -- so he swats the rock out of the air. 

In a puff of smoke, Mori appears midair, twisting around and tossing a few kunai out at the startled chuunin. 

When Iruka’s pinned to the ground, Mori crows triumphantly and squats down next to the disgruntled teen. 

“Don't dismiss the Academy jutsu,” Mori lectures. “They've saved my life more than once.”

“Fine, fine, lesson learned,” Iruka grumbles, reaching over and yanking out the kunai pinning him to the ground. He glowers at the rip in the sleeves of his jacket. “This was _ new _ , senpai.”

“It would've gotten torn up eventually,” Mori says. He helps Iruka to his feet and glances over at where Aya and Yuko are still sparring. 

They've given up on jutsu, now, as they kick and punch and roll their way across the field. He lets out a little huff when he catches sight of  _ another _ figure lazing underneath the tree. 

“Looks like Izo-san decided to show up,” Iruka commented. 

“You know what, I bet he was here the whole time and hid himself so that he didn't have to do anything,” Mori joked as he and Iruka move towards the tree. 

Izo keeps his eyes closed as they approach -- lounging lazily underneath the tree. He doesn’t give any indication that he notices their presence, but Mori knows the Nara better than that.

He plops himself onto the ground next to Izo. Iruka follows suit.

“I’m betting on Yuko,” Izo says, eyes still closed.

“You sure about that?” Mori asks, studying the fight before them. Aya’s got the upper hand right now, on the offensive. Yuko’s breathing hard and losing stamina, and her blocks aren’t coming as fast as they were ten minutes ago. “I’ll take that bet.”

“I win, you owe me a favor.”

“Deal.”

Iruka and Mori watch the fight while Izo keeps his eyes closed. Yuko stumbles over a rock, and Aya darts forward to take the opening and deliver her final blow.

But then Yuko swings her arms up and redirects Aya’s momentum, flipping her over her shoulder and slamming her onto the ground. Aya shrieks as she hits the dirt, and then tenses up when she feels the cold metal of a kunai being pressed to her throat.

“Sixty-nine to sixty-five,” Yuko declares. “ _ Still _ my favor.”

She removes the kunai and Aya groans.

“Damn it, I thought I got you!” Aya complains. She gets to her feet and dusts off her pants. Yuko rakes her fingers through her tangled hair and starts tying it back into a ponytail.

Mori watches with his mouth open. Izo smirks, all the while keeping his eyes closed.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to bet against a Nara anymore,” Iruka mutters.

Mori drags a hand over his face. “ _ Ugh.” _

Izo finally opens his eyes and sits up, grinning mischievously. “I think I’ll sit on this favor,” he says. “It should come in handy down the line."

“Your eyes weren’t even open,” Mori complains. He groans again and hides his face in his hands.

_ I’m from the future and I still lose these bets, _ Mori whines in his head.

Izo laughs heartily and grins at Aya and Yuko as they approach.

“You’re here!” Aya exclaims.

“You’re here,” Yuko states, not quite as enthusiastic as Aya is.

“Happy birthday, Aya,” Izo says, waving a piece of paper in Aya’s direction. She takes it and scans the contents.

“One free meal at Ramen Ichiraku,” she reads aloud. Then she smiles at Izo. “Thanks!”

“You’re so  _ cheap,” _ Mori mutters.

“Aya likes it, so it’s okay,” Izo says.

Aya and Yuko drop themselves onto the grass underneath the tree, both of them worn out from their spar. Aya’s still grumbling over her loss, while Yuko grimaces.

“I guess I’ll just have my team do D-ranks, today,” she mutters tiredly. “That way I don’t have to do anything.”

“Michi and Kozue are going to hate that,” Aya remarks.

Mori chuckles.

Yuko’s been teaching a genin team for about a year, now -- the same team he’d remembered from so long ago. They were just as entertaining and rowdy as he remembered, and Mori smiles fondly at the thought.

“Speaking of genin teams,” Aya says suddenly. “Mori’s testing one today, right?”

Mori nods.

It’s his fourth time testing another genin team in this timeline; he’d failed the previous three in years past. He’s not expecting this year’s to pass, either.

Mori remembers the first time he ever tested a genin team at the age of twenty-one, and he wonders if this year’s batch will be that same group.

“You’re testing a team?” Iruka asks.

“Yeah,” Mori agrees. “I’m not really expecting much. Last year’s bunch was…  _ well _ .”

“I’ll say,” Yuko grimaces, remembering. “Are you going to be using the same test?”

“Yeah, if you’re all in,” Mori says, glancing at his two teammates and Izo.

“I’m not doing anything,” Izo says. “I can help you out.”

“I’ve got a day off,” Aya adds.

“I'll be with my team, but if they show up I'll help out,” Yuko promises.

Mori grins. “Great,” he beams. “Let’s hope this year’s brats are a little more perceptive.”

* * *

After Mori enlists the help of his friends, they split up. Yuko goes off to train her genin team, Aya wanders away to find other friends, and Iruka disappears, claiming to be meeting up with Mizuki and Kenji. Izo just vanishes to do whatever it is he does during the day, leaving Mori to wander the streets of Konoha by himself.

He’s got about an hour to kill before he has to go to the Academy and meet the kids he'll be testing, so he picks a path and follows it. He finds himself walking through the streets, studying the shops and stands and stores. Shopkeepers call out, hoping to attract customers. People walk down the street, picking and choosing from the wares available. 

It’s been six years since he’d woken up in the past and six years since the Kyuubi attack. The village has long since repaired itself, though the bitterness and grief still remains.

Though Konoha is, for the most part, quiet and calm, Mori sees the grief lingering still, every time he catches a glimpse of yellow and orange darting across the edges of the streets.

Mori rubs the seal still burnt onto his chest uncomfortably. He’d never spoken to the Uzumaki brat, only seen him around. Mori sees the glares and whispers directed in the kid’s direction, but he doesn’t interfere.

Thinking about it leaves a nasty feeling in his stomach. There’s fear there -- even six years later, he still wakes up from nightmares of a burning in his chest and a bloodied hand wrapping around his throat. But there’s also guilt -- Naruto doesn’t seem to be a bad kid, but Mori can’t bring himself to talk to him. Or be nice to him. He sees the Yondaime’s son being lonely and lost, and he sees the Kyuubi burning down Konoha and everything he loves. He doesn't know which is worse. 

Mori compromises by resolving to step in if anything ever gets physical. He made a promise to the Yondaime, to protect the brat.

_ But it doesn’t have to go any farther than that, _ Mori thinks, ignoring the stab of guilt that flashes through him at the thought. After all, he had already had enough on his plate, dealing with --

“Mori-sensei.”

_ Speak of the devil, _ he thinks. Mori turns around and smiles lightly at the child behind him.

“I'm not really your sensei,” Mori reminds the boy, but he ruffles the kid’s hair and grins. “How are you, Itachi-kun?”

Uchiha Itachi, ten years old,  _ pouts _ as Mori ruffles his hair. He looks young and innocent, like a  _ child.  _

Mori’s not quite sure why the kid latched onto him, but over time Itachi had grown on him. Itachi’s polite, and quiet, and  _ nice. _

No matter how hard Mori tries, he can’t reconcile this young boy with the killer who massacred the entire Uchiha Clan.

“I’m doing well,” Itachi says, gently removing Mori’s hand from his head. “How about you, Mori-sensei?”

“I’m testing a genin team today,” Mori informs Itachi. “After lunch.”

Itachi stares at him with a blank expression. “Didn’t you fail one last year?”

“Yeah, but I’m still on the rotation,” Mori reminds him. He stifles a laugh at Itachi’s dubious expression.

The ten-year-old chuunin shrugs, but he has the barest of pouts on his lips. “... Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Mori says. “If they’re anything like last year’s bunch, I’m going to need it.”

Itachi tilts his head thoughtfully. “Do you need assistance?”

Mori shakes his head with a smile. “Not really. I think I can handle a few genin brats.”

Itachi smiles then -- a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. Mori feels a pang of grief at the sight.

_ You're a killer, _ he thinks.  _ A traitor.  _

What kind of trigger can change this young child into a mass murderer? What kind of monster can wipe out their entire clan in one go?

What can Mori do to  _ stop _ it?

“I’ll see you later, then, Mori-sensei,” Itachi says seriously, though it comes out much more innocent and adorable with his young, baby face. 

Mori gives out a fond but exasperated sigh -- he'd long since given up trying to stop Itachi from referring to him as such. “Okay, then.”

The boy sketches out a bow before striding off, hair bobbing around his head. Mori only stares after him sadly.

* * *

He walks into the Academy and immediately feels uncomfortable. He feels a pang of sympathy for Iruka. The halls are too small and he can hear the excited chatter of freshly graduated students echoing throughout the entire building.  

_ Children.  _

Mori wonders what types of brats he'll get to test this year. 

He pulls up to the familiar classroom and takes a breath. The kids on the other side talk excitedly, no doubt ready to take their first step to becoming ninja. 

Mori opens the door. 

Immediately, a hush falls over the room as thirty pairs of eyes turn to him and pin him down. Mori feels like he's an exhibit in a glass case with hundreds of onlookers studying him, judging him. 

“Team Four,” he calls out, and three children nearly knock over their desks with how quickly they get to their feet. 

The rest of the classroom groans in disappointment as three of their peers trip over themselves getting out the door. 

Mori suppresses a sigh. 

“We're headed to Training Ground Twelve,” Mori informs them. “We'll have introductions there, okay?”

There's two boys and a girl. The taller boy nods, the shorter one shrugs, and the girl fires off a salute. 

“Yes, sensei!” she chirps out, and Mori can't help but grin at her enthusiasm. 

Training Ground Twelve isn't a long walk -- about two minutes -- and Mori runs through his ‘testing speech’ in his head. 

When they arrive at the grounds, the three kids start looking around with interest. 

It's a grassy clearing, lined with trees on one side and rocks on the other. There's a few wooden stumps at the edge of the treeline and a dirt area that's meant for setting up projectile targets. Mori breathes in the fresh air and enjoys the view -- from here, they have a clear view of the Hokage Mountain. 

_ It's a nice day, _ he thinks, and he turns to the kids in front of him. 

The girl is to his left. She has long, wavy hair that runs down her back, and Mori’s first thought is that she's going to need a headband or a hair tie to keep it all out of her face. Her brand new hitai-ate is tied around her forehead and she displays it with pride. 

In the middle stands the taller boy. He has light brown hair and a skinny build, and even though he's at least two inches taller than both of his teammates he almost looks like the smallest with his unassuming and self-conscious posture. 

And then there's the other boy, to Mori’s right. He's the shortest out of all three of these students, even with his spiky black hair sticking up. His hitai-ate isn't on his forehead -- instead, he had tied it around his upper right arm. Mori is almost discomfited, peering at the dark eyes behind the glasses perched on the boy's nose.

“As you can probably deduce, I'm your sensei,” Mori says. “We'll start off with introducing ourselves. Just say your name, your hobbies, dreams, that sort of thing. I'll go first.”

The kids in front of him lean forward with interest. 

“I'm Hayakawa Mori, and --”

“Wait,  _ what? _ ”

The girl interrupts him and he frowns. 

“Hayakawa Mori --” he repeats, but he's cut off by a loud shriek. 

“Oh my  _ God, _ you're  _ Hayakawa Mori?!” _

Mori shoots a startled look at the girl. 

She's pointing at him excitedly, slack-jawed, and she looks about ready to explode with happiness. Her brown eyes are open wide, shining with disbelieving glee and  _ pure admiration _ . 

What the  _ fuck? _

Mori is a good ninja, but he also knows that he's just that: a good ninja. He doesn't have any special skills or talents, or overwhelming abilities, or even a noteworthy appearance. The only remarkable thing about him is the fact that he traveled back in time. Which is something that this girl definitely should not suspect or be aware of. Mori hasn't done anything in his life -- in  _ both _ timelines -- to warrant any sort of reputation or fame, let alone  _ hero worship.  _

It's something so unexpected, so  _ foreign _ that he just freezes up, completely forgetting what he was about to say. 

“You're so cool!” the girl shrieks out. Her male teammates shoot her strange looks and then look back at Mori, as if trying to see if they should know this guy. 

Mori opens his mouth as if to say something, and then closes it. 

The girl bounces up and down and squeals like she received an autograph from her favorite movie star. She’s vibrating with excitement and Mori can feel a bead of sweat dropping down the back of his neck. 

“Oh my God, you are my  _ hero, _ ” she gushes. “Holy flipping  _ hell _ ,  _ my sensei is Hayakawa Mori!  _ Ahh I can't believe this is happening, holy crap,  _ Hayakawa Mori.  _ Oh my God, nii-san is  _ never _ gonna believe this --”

Abruptly, the girl cuts off, eyes widened in horror. She turns bright red and folds into a deep bow. “Ah! Sorry Hayakawa-sensei, I did not mean to interrupt you! Please continue with your introduction!”

Mori is silent for a moment, and then two moments. Then he just decides to power through his short speech. 

“I'm Hayakawa Mori, I like barbecue, being with friends, and hiking, and my dream is to protect Konoha and its future.”

He locks eyes with the boy with the glasses, who takes his cue and opens his mouth. 

“I'm Tachibana Issei, twelve years old. I like to draw. I hate stupid and unnecessarily loud things.”

At this, his eyes flick over to the girl, who splutters in indignation.

“My dream is to serve Konoha.” Issei finishes by pushing his glasses up and stares at Mori with a lethargic gaze that can rival Izo’s. 

Well, that was more boring than Mori expected.

The taller boy in the middle goes next. There's a short pause before he opens his mouth. 

“I'm Nakai Rikuto, but you can just call me Riku,” he says. He pauses again, as if to think, and then he nods like he decided what to say. “I’m twelve. I like to read and learn new things, and I don't like… uh, overly sweet foods. And my dream is to become a great taijutsu specialist!”

That last bit is said a little more forcefully, and Mori nods in approval. 

He turns to the girl, who is buzzing with anticipation, and gestures for her to go next. 

The girl stands up out of her bow so quickly that Mori’s worried that she'll get whiplash. She straightens up, her spine like a ramrod, and opens her mouth. 

“I'm Nagata Chie, twelve years old! I like climbing trees and exploring new places. I dislike nerdy things and nerds--” at this the taller boy beside her bristles “-- and my dream is to be a great ninja like Hayakawa-sensei!”

“Mori-sensei is fine,” Mori says, and immediately Chie’s excitement increases tenfold.

Mori runs through her introduction in his head. 

_ Nagata Chie,  _ he thinks.  _ I've heard that name before… Nagata Chie, Nagata Chie… Oh! _

His eyes widen in recognition and he stares at the girl in disbelief. “You don't, by chance, happen to be the daughter of Nagata Fumie, do you?”

Chie shrieks and nods so quickly that her face blurs. “Yes! Yes, that's me!”

Six years ago, the Kyuubi attacked Konoha, and six years ago, Mori got re-promoted to jounin for saving the lives of Nagata Fumie and her three children. Mori remembers, now -- the middle child, the girl. She would have been six years old at the time. 

… Holy crap, did he inspire a kid to become a ninja?

“How do you know, uh, Mori-sensei?” Riku asks, glancing at Chie with a cross between concern and curiosity. 

“Mori-sensei saved my life!” Chie declares. “The Kyuubi attacked my house and he fought it off!”

“Er, that's not quite what happened,” Mori says, but Chie seems unfazed as she continues to gush about Mori’s exaggerated achievements. 

Riku looks almost panicked as Chie unloads all her admiration onto him. Issei is completely unimpressed, bordering on annoyance. They’re not paying attention anymore, and Mori can practically feel the loss of authority as Chie continues to babble.

“Alright!” he says, clapping his hands together. Immediately, all three children quiet down and turn their attention to him. 

_ Well, they follow directions at least, _ he thinks. 

“You probably thought that starting today, you're ninja. That's not entirely true.”

Issei’s eyes widen in shock, and Mori feels almost relieved to get a reaction out of the stoic, glasses-wearing boy. 

“First, you have to pass a test,” Mori says.

Chie and Issei wear matching expressions of disappointment and apprehension. Rikuto bites his lip, but it seems to be more in thought than in nervousness. 

“I should warn you, I've failed three genin teams before,” Mori says, and as expected, the kids stiffen in horror. 

“It's 12:30,” Mori says. “You have five hours and five guesses.”

“What are we guessing?” Issei asks. 

“You three have to find out what my favorite color is.”

Rikuto blinks. “W-What kind of test is  _ that?” _ he demands. 

Chie tilts her head. “Is it blue?”

“No.”

“Is it red?”

“No. Also, you have three guesses left.”

Chie slams her hand over her mouth as Issei turns a murderous glare onto her. 

“Idiot!” he says. “Can’t you see? This is a ninja test!”

Riku frowns. “How so?”

“It's an information gathering exercise,  _ dumbass.” _ Issei drawls. “Obviously we can't just make  _ stupid guesses _ .”

“Hey!” Chie yells. “I'll have you know, blue and red are statistically the most common favorite colors!”

Riku coughs. “It's actually blue and green --”

“Shut up, nerd!”

The corner of Mori’s mouth twitches as he observes their dynamics. Issei is obviously the most perceptive out of the three, but he lacks tact. Rikuto seems to be more of the book smart type, though Mori wonders about his desire to become a taijutsu specialist. And Chie is the loud one. If he tilts his head and squints, he could see how they could possibly develop into a decent team, but first, they’ll have to pass his test.

They have potential, he acknowledges, but is it enough?

“I’ll meet you back here at 5:30 for the rest of your guesses. You’ve got three more chances.” With that, he shoots them an encouraging smile. “Good luck.”

Chie glows with excitement as Riku facepalms. Issei just narrows his eyes.

“I think this is a stupid test, but I’ll pass it anyway,” Issei declares.

“It’s not stupid!” Chie protests. “Mori-sensei is a great --”

“Shut up!” Issei cuts her off. “Come on. Let’s go ask around.”

Issei strides out of the training ground with confident steps. Chie runs after him, brimming with determination. Riku scrambles after the rest of his team.

Mori sighs as they leave. That was certainly… something. He’d never had a genin team leave quite the impression before.

“Well? What do you think?” Mori asks, turning to the tree line.

He can hear the sounds of someone shifting guiltily in the branches. Uchiha Itachi steps out of his hiding place with a valiant attempt at masking his embarrassment at being caught. Mori grins.

Uchiha Itachi is a prodigy, but it’s not good enough. Perhaps he’d have been able to hide from Aya or even Yuko, but Mori has an extra twelve years of experience and was a former ANBU member himself.

“I don’t like them,” Itachi declares, as he walks up and stands next to Mori.

“Eh, I think they’re pretty entertaining,” Mori says, giving Itachi an amused smile. “Is there a reason why you wanted to watch me test a new team?”

Itachi looks away. “... I thought you might need help.”

Mori snickers and ruffles Itachi’s hair. The boy crosses his arms.

“Well, if you don’t have any missions today, I guess you can help me observe them,” Mori says.

Itachi perks up at that, and Mori still doesn't understand why the kid bonded to him. Itachi nods, and Mori smiles.

The three almost-genin kids are out of the training grounds now, but between a jounin and a prodigy it shouldn't be too hard to track them down. Mori starts walking in the direction the kids left in with Itachi at his heels.

He's got a team to test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BABY ITACHI. BABY ITACHI. oh my god the story behind how Mori and Itachi became kinda friends is hilarious and I can't wait to write it out.
> 
> Also, new characters have appeared! We'll find out more about them as time goes on, of course. Get ready.
> 
> Aya's birthday is March 27th, in case anyone was wondering. Mori and Yuko are younger than her because they were born later in the year (July and September, respectively). Well, I guess Mori's actually older but. Yeah.
> 
> Reasons why I time-skipped: not a lot goes on? I was thinking about writing something about the Hyuuga Affair but I feel like that would've distracted from the story and couldn't think of a place to fit it in. So just assume that the Hyuuga Affair remains as it is in canon.
> 
> Coming up soon: Genin test adventures, more insight into Mori's and Itachi's dynamic, and mystery investigations!


	7. The Massacre, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mori's experiences with teaching are certainly something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP ME. This was a ridiculously hard chapter to write?? I've been looking forward to it, too, but it just. It was HARD.
> 
> ALSO IT GOT INCREDIBLY LONG AND I DON'T KNOW WHETHER TO APOLOGIZE OR WHAT IT'S 9000+ WORDS HOLY CRAP

_Three years ago:_

 

“With all due respect: What the hell, Hokage-sama.”

The Sandaime -- the meddling _bastard_ \-- takes the insult in stride as Mori stares at him in part disbelief and part panic. He puffs on his pipe and leans back on his chair as Mori continues to pour over the file in his hands.

“I -- you’re --- I’m sorry, but _what good is going to come out of this?”_

“You said you didn’t know why he snapped,” the Sandaime says. “This is the perfect opportunity to get some insight into his character.”

Mori usually isn’t one to protest or question the Hokage’s orders, but this is one that he hopes he can wriggle out of.

Because the file in his hands is a _student file._ And the form in his hands is a _jounin instructor form._

Mori has tested enough genin teams in his past life to know where this is going.

“I don’t know how to deal with children,” Mori starts.

“You have a younger brother, Hayakawa-san,” the Sandaime counters.

“I don’t know how to teach.”

“I’m told that you’ve been a role model to one Umino Iruka.”

“The Uchiha will not want one as average as myself to teach their future heir.”

“On paper, you’re a talented ninja who had a field promotion to jounin at the young age of sixteen,” the Sandaime says. “Perfect for dealing with a child prodigy.”

 _Fuck time travel,_ he thinks, and Mori closes his eyes.

There’s not really any argument Mori can make against it. It’s logically sound. Strategically, it’s the best chance they have to analyze the kid and get a read on his character, and hopefully find a way to prevent him from snapping.

It’s just. Mori isn’t exactly excited about the idea of teaching _Clan Killer Itachi._

“He’ll graduate in three days,” the Sandaime says. “He won't be on a genin team due to his prodigious circumstances.”

“One-on-one?” Mori asks, incredulous. “And Uchiha-sama approved?”

The Sandaime nods, with a slight grin. “If you frame it correctly, he will approve anything.”

Which means that the Sandaime probably called it ‘individual personalized tutoring of your clan heir’.

Well, there goes the last excuse he has to get out of training Uchiha Itachi.

“I’ll be there,” Mori says, resigned.

 

* * *

 

_Present (Past?) Day:_

 

Chie has clearly done her research, he'll give her that. By the time he and Itachi catch up with the genin, they're already hunting for Hyuuga Yuko. (She was there too when they got us out of Mori-sensei’s awesome dome!)

As the kids march along, they are oblivious to Mori watching the group with a scrutinizing eye.

Issei has taken point -- an interesting development. Mori had expected Chie to clash with him over leading team, but it seems that she's fallen into a following role quite comfortably. Rikuto, quiet pushover he appears to be, contributes by giving directions.

So they do have teamwork, which is nice. Mori wonders how long it'll last.

“They're going towards the Hyuuga Compound,” Itachi observes.

“Well, that _would_ be the first place one would look for a Hyuuga,” Mori comments. It’s about a twenty-minute walk from Training Ground Twelve to the Hyuuga Compound, if you’re not taking the rooftops. The kids spend the time either bickering over the route or being awkwardly silent. Mori guesses that they didn’t know each other too well in the Academy.

Mori and Itachi continue to follow the children. About a hundred feet away from the entrance to the compound, the three genin stop and whisper among themselves, stealing glances of the Compound.

The Hyuuga guards are clearly aware of the children's interest, but they don't move from their positions. Mori grins as Chie and Issei shove Rikuto forward.

“I don’t think this is a good idea!” Riku hisses.

“All you have to do is ask where Hyuuga Yuko is,” Chie says encouragingly, although she ruins it with a quick: “Even a nerd like you can do that!”

“Don’t mess up,” Issei says. “No pressure.” The encouraging words don’t match his flat, serious tone.

Riku gulps and turns to the guards. The tall, timid boy stiffly walks to the Hyuuga, whose mouth twitches with amusement. Mori snickers silently from his position on the rooftop and Itachi’s face is carefully blank.

“Um, e-excuse me, H-Hyuuga-san?” Riku stammers out.

The guard inclines his head, but otherwise makes no motion.

Riku takes a deep breath and bows. “D-do you know where … um…” His face turns bright red and Mori can see a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck.

A moment passes. It is then that Mori realizes that, in his panic, Rikuto has forgotten the name of their target.

“For Kami’s sake,” Issei mutters, and he and Chie jog up and join their teammate.

The Hyuuga guard ticks an eyebrow at them.

“What our dumbass teammate is trying to ask is if you know where Hyuuga Yuko is,” Issei says blandly.

Chie swats him. “You can’t just call our teammate a dumbass, you jerk!”

Riku lets out a moan and hides his face in his hands.

“She is most likely training with her genin team, though I’m afraid I am unaware of their exact location,” the guard answers the request. “Is there a particular reason why you are seeking out Hyuuga Yuko?” His tone is blank and his face impassive, but Mori catches the faint glimmer of amusement behind those white eyes.

Chie grins and opens her mouth. “Our sensei is --”

Issei slams a hand over her mouth and Chie squawks in protest.

“Sorry, Hyuuga-san, but I can’t tell you,” Issei says. “Ninja aren’t supposed to blurt out their mission to any random shinobi.”

Mori snorts -- he wasn’t quite looking for that, but he supposes it’s nice that Issei is looking ahead.

Issei barks out a quick, ‘let’s go’ and turns away without saying anything else.

Chie and Rikuto gape at his obvious disrespect.

“Thank you for your help, Hyuuga-san! It’s much appreciated!” Chie says, bows down, and zips away after Issei.

“I apologize for my teammate’s disrespect!” Riku squawks. He imitates Chie’s bow and then disappears.

Mori laughs at the expression on the guard’s face.

“They’re rude,” Itachi says. “I don’t like them.”

“Oh, please,” Mori replies. “Hyuugas need to be knocked down a peg every once in awhile.” Mori pauses and smirks. “Uchihas, too.”

Itachi pouts again, and Mori grins and ruffles his hair again. It’s just too easy to tease the kid.

“Now _you_ are being the rude one, sensei,” Itachi declares.

Mori barks out another laugh and smiles fondly at the young Uchiha.

 

* * *

 

_Three years ago:_

 

Mori stifles a grimace and forces a smile at the young Uchiha.

Seven-year-old Itachi stares blankly back. His posture is perfect and he sits cross-legged on the ground in front of him, the image of a perfect genin.

His eyes, Mori decides, are way too old for his young face.

“I'm Hayakawa Mori,” he says, trying for a friendly smile. “I'll be your jounin sensei.”

Itachi nods, betraying no emotion.

 _This is fucking terrifying,_ Mori thinks. He's sitting across from _Uchiha-fucking-Itachi,_ prodigy among prodigies who killed his entire (elite and well-defended) clan at the tender age of thirteen for no discernible reason.

He realizes he's been silent a little too long when Itachi tilts his head, asking a silent question.

“Er. I suppose I'll get right down to teaching?”

It comes out as more of a question and Mori curses the uncertain tone in his voice.

He also curses the fact that he spent the last three days whining about teaching the Uchiha instead of actually thinking about what he'd be teaching the Uchiha.

Itachi just stares at him. Mori can feel his silent, judgmental thoughts -- probably something along the lines of _this man is an imbecile._

And now he's just distracting his own self. Mori returns to the issue at hand: what is he going to teach the kid?

Well, there's no way he's going to teach the kid _combat_ skills. God forbid he give the brat even more ammunition and make him _stronger._

Another thirty seconds of tense silence pass, and Mori makes his decision.

“Alright,” Mori says, getting to his feet. “Follow me.”

Itachi is as silent as a shadow and just as eerie as he trails behind Mori.

 

* * *

 

_Present day:_

 

It takes the kids two hours to find Hyuuga Yuko.

Chie has the bright idea of checking the training grounds, which is a brilliant and actually decent idea, except for the fact that there are over fifty areas specified for training in Konoha.

They end up only checking about twenty of them before, while passing through the residential area of the village, they stumble across a genin team repairing a broken fence.

Mori’s leans forward in anticipation. He almost falls out of the tree they're hiding in, but he channels some chakra to his feet and holds fast. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Itachi sighing.

Issei, still leading the others around town, pauses in his walk. Chie and Rikuto follow his lead, though the former is frowning in confusion.

One of the genin working on the fence seems to sense their gaze and turns around, a haughty expression on her face. She has short black hair that seems almost blue and a pair of significant ears that stick out on either side of her head. Her light brown eyes pin the three genin down with their intense gaze.

“What are _you_ looking at?” she demands, voice radiating with authority and arrogance.

Issei glances from her to the fence and back. “It's crooked.”

The girl's eyes flash, and she steps forward threateningly. “ _Excuse_ you?”

“I said,” Issei says bluntly, “Your fence is crooked. Or did your large ears not hear me the first time?”

The girl flushes and turns an angry shade of red as she claps her hand over her ears. Chie slams her hands on Issei’s mouth and Rikuto steps between Issei and the girl.

Itachi coughs as Mori lets out a loud guffaw.

“This kid,” Mori manages to say in between bouts of laughter. “Oh man, there is _no_ hope for this kid.”

Itachi lifts his head up at that. “So you're not going to pass them, Mori-sensei?”

“I didn't say _that_ ,” Mori says, amused. “If they guess the color right, I'll pass them.”

They turn their attention back at the scene below.

Chie angrily hisses something in Issei’s ear while Rikuto stumbles over apologies to the fuming genin in front of them.

She doesn't seem to be appeased.

Then, another genin puts down his work on the fence and steps up.

Immediately, the three almost-genin step back, eyes wide.

“Are they bothering you, Michi?” the older boy asks, eyes darting from his furious teammate to the three terrified children. He crosses his arms, leveling a pair of dark eyes on the three younger genin.

Rikuto doesn’t even pause before he walks behind Chie and Issei and hides. Chie gives the two genin an innocent smile. Though her hand is still clamped over Issei’s mouth, Issei’s angry glare says more than enough about his feelings on the matter.

Mori cackles. It's been a long time since he's tested such an entertaining genin team.

“I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” the newly named Michi screeches.

Her teammate screws his eyes shut in resignation.

“Sorry, ass-kicking isn’t part of our mission!” Chie says, backing up with her hand still on Issei’s mouth.

Mori almost falls out of the tree at that comment.

Itachi tilts his head. “They do not understand how to talk to people,” he decides.

Coming from Itachi, that statement only increases Mori’s mirth.

“Oi!”

Team Four freezes in their tracks again as the third member of the fence-repairing genin team gets up and joins the commotion. Said girl is also at least a full head taller than Rikuto and twice as broad. She wears her hitai-ate like a bandana and crosses her arms, looming over the group.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice quiet but demanding. “We have a fence to fix! Sensei’s gonna kill us if we don’t finish soon!”

The boy pales at the thought of their sensei returning to a job unfinished and turns to join the tall girl in working.

“Oh no, you don’t!” The angry Michi’s hand snakes out a latches around the boy’s wrists. Her ears are still bright red, though Mori can’t tell if that’s from anger or embarrassment. “I’m gonna fight them!”

“Michi, let Kozue go and get back here,” the tall girl says in a near monotone voice. “They’re just kids.”

Chie mutters quick, ‘you’re not even that much older than us’ but the taller girl just rolls her eyes.

“Michi,” the tall girl says.

Michi whirls around and points an aggressive finger at her teammate. “You don't get to tell me what to do, Misaki!”

Misaki stares down the angry girl. The boy, Kozue, looks helplessly between the two girls.

Mori turns his attention back to his own kids. They seem to be inching away slowly, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves.

And with that, Yuko appears.

Chie lets out a startled shriek as a new figure appears in a whirl of leaves. Mori grins as his teammate takes in the sight of these six children -- three cowering in fear, two having a stare down, and one trapped hopelessly in the middle.

Almost immediately, her team backs up and salutes.

“Yuko-sensei!” Michi says. “This isn't what it looks like!”

Yuko pinches the bridge of her nose. “I leave you for _five minutes_ …” she mutters.

Riku shivers as he opens his mouth. “We -- we were just leav--”

“Wait!” Chie shouts and interrupts Riku’s apology.

Yuko turns to her.

“Are you Hyuuga Yuko?” Chie asks, buzzing with excitement. “We've been looking for you!”

Yuko stares at them for a moment before grinning. She flicks her gaze up to Mori and Itachi’s position in the trees and nods almost imperceptibly.

Mori grins and gives her a thumbs up. Yuko smiles before turning back to Chie.

“I am Hyuuga Yuko,” she confirms. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Chie, ever so excited to meet another hero of hers, lets go of Issei to bow down to her.

“I think your eyes are cool!” Chie gushes. “Thank you for being a good ninja!”

At that, Yuko blinks in confusion. “Er…”

“You're shorter than I expected,” Issei says.

Riku’s eyes widen in horror.

 _Oh no,_ Mori thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose and groans.

"That was a mistake," Itachi mutters, and Mori agrees.

Whether it's a high-ranking jounin or a lowly Academy student, Yuko defends all five feet of her height with _everything_ she has. No mercy.

Yuko narrows her eyes and turns an intense gaze onto Issei.

Issei, to his credit, only levels his own lethargic eyes onto her.

“What was that, kid?” Yuko asks, her voice cold enough to freeze fire.

Yuko’s students stare on in horror. The tall girl, Misaki, shakes her head frantically and draws a line across her throat.

_Abort mission._

Perceptive as Issei is, he doesn’t take the hint and instead says, “I thought you’d be taller.” He makes a loose gesture at Misaki. “I mean, your _own students_ are taller than you --”

“Why you insolent, little _brat --_ ” Yuko hisses.

Mori is watching the interaction with fascinated horror.

He’d seen people push Yuko’s buttons before -- the Hyuuga _did_ have a short temper, after all -- but. He’d never seen someone do it so _quickly_.

Riku screws up his courage and admirably attempts to salvage the situation by bowing to Yuko and changing the subject.

“We’re the students of your teammate, Mori-sensei!” he yelps. “We just want to know what his favorite color is --”

“Nope!” Yuko cuts him off, still glaring at Issei. “I'm an incredibly busy jounin. Sorry kids, but I've got ninja duties.”

She turns her eyes on her genin team. The three children scramble to return to their work on the fence.

Chie stares at Yuko, widening her eyes and letting her lower lip tremble. “Surely you could simply answer our one question --”

Yuko laughs and shakes her head. “I took those kunoichi classes too, kid,” she says with a smirk. “Your puppy dog eyes won't work. Also…” she levels her white-eyed gaze onto Issei eyes narrowed and expression cold. “Good ninja don't alienate potential allies. Congrats, brat, you just shut down your first lead.”

Issei flushes and clenches his hands into fists. But he doesn't say anything.

Mori sighs and leans back against the tree. “Entertaining,” he laments. “But hopeless.”

Itachi looks a little too pleased at that statement for Mori’s comfort.

 

* * *

 

_Three years ago:_

 

Itachi stares blankly out at their surroundings, with a hint of confusion and disdain in his eyes. He turns his head, taking in the sights, and then turns back to Mori, questioning.

“Training,” Itachi deadpans.

Mori shrugs. “As a ninja, you will have to be able to blend into many different surroundings.”

Itachi frowns. “But this is a _playground.”_

“As a ninja of _your age_ , it's likely you will be required to go undercover as a civilian child,” Mori clarifies.

Itachi stares. The lack of emotion on the seven-year-old’s face is disquieting. Mori wonders if Itachi had ever laughed in his life.

Can he tell that Mori is just pulling this 'lesson’ out of his ass? Or does he buy the whole undercover excuse?

“Go play, or something,” Mori says. “Come back here in fifteen minutes and I'll grade you on how well you blended in.”

Itachi nods, walks over to an empty swing, and sits on it. He looks over at the kid next to him and attempts to copy their movements and swing his legs.

Mori sighs as Itachi manages to mimic the pendulum motion after a good three minutes. He wonders if this lesson made things worse.

Being a sensei to a potential mass murderer is _hard._

 

* * *

 

_Present Day:_

 

After Chie and Riku chew Issei out for being a rude jerk, Chie decides that their next course of action is to track down Masuko Aya  (the amazing Mori-sensei’s other teammate).

Unfortunately for them, they have no idea where to begin.

“We can't just hope we run into her while wandering Konoha,” Issei says. “It’s almost four. We only have about an hour and a half.”

“Well, where are we supposed to look?” Chie wonders. “I don't want to check every training ground in Konoha.”

“We don't even know if she's in the village,” Issei muses. “Loudmouth, do you know of any other of Mori-sensei’s friends? Preferably ones that are easy to identify?”

“I'm _not_ a loudmouth!” Chie protests. “And I _admire_ Mori-sensei, I don't _stalk_ him.”

Riku bites his lip and fiddles with his fingers. “There’s a way to find Masuko-san,” he says.

Mori frowns and wonders what he's planning to do.

Chie stares at Riku dubiously. “Is it a tracking jutsu? Do you know one?”

“I only know the jutsu we learned at the Academy,” Riku says, and he looks a little sheepish. “But what I was thinking was that we can request for her services at the missions desk. We can call it a D-rank mission that needs her special skills and if we fast-track the request, she'll show up within fifteen minutes. If we cancel the request while the runner is out retrieving her, then we won’t have to pay.”

“Can you request specific ninja for D-rank missions?” Chie wonders out loud. “I thought that was only for higher ranking stuff.”

“Well, for D-ranks clients normally request specific genin teams,” Riku says. “There’s _technically_ nothing against requesting a jounin for a D-rank.”

Mori’s jaw drops as Rikuto finishes his suggestion. Itachi is quiet for a moment.

“... That was a surprisingly great idea,” the boy says, after a pause.

“Ha,” Mori says, a grin spreading across his face. “Maybe they _can_ pass this thing.”

“Whoa!” Chie says, responding to Riku’s idea. “How do you know about that?”

Riku bites his lip and looks away. “... I read the mission request regulations, once,” he says. “And I, uh, tried to find loopholes. Just for fun.”

Chie stares at him with wide eyes.

“You read the mission request regulations for fun,” Issei says blandly.

Riku’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. “My uncle used to work at the missions desk,” he protests. “He just left the rule book lying around so --”

“You _nerd,”_ Chie says, though it comes out more impressed than the annoyed tone it was earlier. “Alright. To the missions desk!”

The three children scramble along the streets, headed in the direction of the Hokage’s Tower. Mori and Itachi follow along, eager to see how this particular stage of their investigation will play out.

Mori also takes a mental note of the strategy -- it would be a lot easier to get Izo out of bed for a fake mission than having to storm the Nara Compound and drag Izo out of his room.

 

* * *

 

_Three years ago:_

 

“What are we doing today, Mori-sensei?” Itachi asks, waiting patiently for Mori’s instructions.

It’s been eight days since he first started teaching the Uchiha clan heir, and they’ve settled into a routine. Itachi would show up at the Twelfth Training Ground decked out in whatever ‘undercover disguise’ Mori had specified for the day. Mori would take Itachi to some civilian establishment around town, under the pretense of teaching him the more subtle ninja arts. And then Mori would watch as he tossed the stoic and overly mature child into social situations more suitable for a kid his age.

There had been quite a few outings at the playground. Itachi had the bad habit of sounding like he was reading a dictionary out loud, but once Mori told him to ‘blend in’ he started picking up more normal speech patterns. The first time Itachi used a contraction, Mori had to stop himself from cackling.

At first, he’d started this whole thing as an excuse to limit Itachi’s combat knowledge -- not that it would have done much, considering the whole _prodigy among prodigy_ thing -- but it’s become increasingly more entertaining.

Mori still has to prevent himself from shrieking out of fear every time Itachi turns his dead-eyed gaze on him, but… the kid’s growing on him.

Itachi’s _trying_ , and it’s almost -- dare he say it, _cute._

So far, Mori’s favorite had been watching Itachi attempt to talk to some civilian children. He’d told Itachi to ‘find out the favorite color of five children’, and it took a couple tries before Itachi figured out how to ask them without sounding robotic enough to scare them away.

Today, though, Mori has some groceries to do, so he’s going to drag Itachi with him to the market stands and teach him how to bargain.

 _Aya would be good at this,_ Mori thinks, but she’s out on a mission and is thus unavailable to teach the young Uchiha the fine art of the sale.

“We’re going to go shopping in the civilian district,” Mori declares. He takes in Itachi’s light green t-shirt, cargo shorts, and sneakers and nods in approval. Itachi’s hitai-ate is kept in one of the pockets on his shorts. He really could pass as a civilian, if it weren't for the uncanny intelligence behind his dark-eyed gaze.

“Today, you will be learning how to negotiate,” Mori says as they walk out the training grounds. “In your ninja career, there will be times when you will need to give and take.”

Itachi nods dutifully.

“You need to be able to read the messages others send and be able to manipulate your own,” Mori lectures. “Trick them into giving you what you want. Your body language, words, and tone of voice will all affect how your transaction goes. And make sure you pay attention to what you're buying, because salespeople are notorious liars.”

“Yes, Mori-sensei,” Itachi nods.

Mori hands Itachi a shopping list and some money. He should feel bad about making a kid do his shopping for the sake of ‘training’ but Itachi actually seems to be okay with it.

He hasn't complained or even subtly hinted at wanting to do ‘real’ ninja stuff. There are times when Itachi is almost smiling, and Mori doesn't think they're forced.

“Here’s your objectives,” Mori says, “and your resources. Do your best.”

Itachi nods, skims over the list, and scampers off. Mori slips into the crowd to keep an eye on the kid.

He sees Itachi arguing over the price of a head of cabbage, and he grins at the sight.

 

* * *

 

_Present day:_

 

Mori and Itachi slip into the Missions Office henged into some generic shinobi. The guards at the door frown at them, but then Mori mouths _‘testing a genin team’_ and they let it slide.

Mori and Itachi take a seat on the bench on the side of the room, waiting for their almost-genin to show up.

They only have to wait a few moments before they arrive.

Riku is clearly the one leading this particular endeavor. He walks up to the front desk and requests a specific form number. The shinobi gives him a strange look but gives it to him anyway. The three kids huddle together as they fill out the form.

“Names,” Riku muses scratching on the paper with a pen. “Nakai Rikuto… Tachibana Issei… Nagata Chie…”

“You’re using the wrong kanji for my name,” Chie says.

“No one cares, loudmouth.”

“Who are you calling loudmouth? _You’re_ the one that wasted our first lead.”

Riku valiantly forges through filling out the form, ignoring his teammates bickering in favor of the paperwork.

It only takes him about a minute more to finish. He reads over it quickly and nods in approval.

“It’s done,” he declares.

“Okay,” Issei says. “How do we get it fast-tracked? D-ranks get least priority.”

Riku bites his lip.

Chie frowns. “You _do_ know how to get it fast-tracked, right?” she asks.

“I do,” Riku says. “You realize the Hokage is the one that gives out missions, right?”

“Yeah,” Issei says.

“We need a stamp to get it up to his office for approval,” Riku says lowly. “And… er. We kinda have to liberate the stamp from the desk.”

Mori has to cough loudly to stop himself from breaking down in laughter. Itachi closes his eyes and leans back against the wall.

Chie perks up at that, a mischievous smile crossing her face. “Ha! You’re lucky you have me on your team,” she says, and she stretches her fingers out. “Which desk?”

Riku blinks and looks over to a particular desk in the corner. The shinobi at the desk looks bored as hell, and on the edge is a wooden stamp next to a red ink pad.

Chie smirks and turns to the boys. She takes the form from Riku’s hands and stands up.

“Watch and learn,” she says, and she strolls up to the desk.

“Shinobi-san!” she greets the desk ninja, and she starts drumming her fingers on the edge of the table.

The ninja looks up, eyelids drooping. “How can I help you?”

“My friends and I are filing a request for a mission, but he wrote my name down incorrectly,” Chie complains.

Riku grimaces and Issei rolls his eyes.

“Do you have white-out or something so I can fix it?” Chie asks, pounding her right fist on the table in what appears to be a nervous habit.

“Sure,” the ninja drones out. He bends over and reaches into a drawer.

As he does so, Chie continues pounding on the table in a rhythmic beat with her right fist. With her free hand, she grabs the stamp and pounds it on the form at the same beat and returns it just as quickly.

When the ninja comes back up with a bottle of white-out in his hands, Chie beams and drapes herself across the table to grab it out of his hand, smoothly hiding the bright red stamp on the form.

Mori nods in approval as she skips back to their group.

“That was well executed,” he comments.

Itachi shrugs in response.

“Alright,” Chie says, as she whites-out her name and rewrites it correctly. “Now what?”

“We slip it in the paperwork pile and wait,” Riku says.

“How long?” Issei asks.

Riku shrugs. “At most, half an hour.”

They check the clock. It’s just past four.

Issei scowls. “This had better be quick.”

Mori laughs softly to himself.

 

* * *

 

_Three years ago:_

 

Day twelve of teaching Uchiha Itachi, and Mori is running out of ideas for ‘ways to teach the Uchiha prodigy without teaching him how to kill people’.

Mori is running Itachi through a D-rank right now, and though the boy doesn’t complain, Mori knows that Itachi would rather be doing _anything_ else other than picking up after the Nara deer. Itachi actually showed up to training this morning in civilian clothes, even though Mori didn’t tell him to. Mori didn’t have the heart to tell the kid that he was out of ideas for non-lethal training.

(God, why was being a shinobi so _violent?)_

So instead of messing around or getting Itachi to do his chores or something, Mori signs him up for a D-rank mission. Itachi pouts, which is somewhat of a surprise because.

Well, for one, Mori didn’t know that he could be that expressive. He must be picking _something_ up from his forced socialization with children his age.

And for another… that pout basically implies that Itachi actually _enjoys_ the bullshit training that Mori gives him.

Mori looks over at Itachi, who dutifully scoops up another round of deer droppings into a bag. He wonders if Fugaku ever had this mission as a genin, and then laughs because the image of the Uchiha Clan Head scooping deer shit is too hilarious for words.

Itachi looks up and glowers at Mori’s laughter.

The jounin finally settles down after a few minutes.

“May I ask what it is you find so amusing?” Itachi asks, his monotone voice unable to mask the light curiosity in his eyes.

“Nothing important,” Mori says, still chuckling to himself.

Itachi sighs and returns to his D-rank. Even though he detests the work, Itachi works at it at a strangely hurried pace.

 _Get it over with,_ Mori thinks. _Get to training faster._

He hopes Itachi isn't getting his hopes up or anything because he doesn't have anything planned. Mori’s going to be honest, he had already ran through all the normal, undercover excuses already -- blending in, gathering information, negotiation, et cetera -- and it's annoying that the kid really is a prodigy because he picked up on everything so _quickly_ it's scary.

Not to say that Itachi’s _perfect._ He’s a bit too monotone to follow Mori’s footsteps and go into the field of infiltration and information gathering. But Itachi knows the basics, which is really all a jounin sensei can ask for. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and would definitely be able to handle missions out of the village.

So when it reaches two o’clock, and their D-rank missions are over, Mori isn’t surprised to see the patient and expectant expression on Itachi’s tired face.

That's five hours of shoveling deer droppings and lugging bags of fertilizer around the Nara Compound. He's kind of impressed that the kid is this awake after spending the whole day in the sun.

Mori wracks his mind for something to throw at the young ninja before he takes in his surroundings.

They're still at the edge of the forest for the Nara clan's deer, and suddenly, Mori feels a burst of inspiration.

“Alright,” Mori says. “We'll report to the Hokage, and then I'll teach you something new.”

Itachi perks up as much as he can, and he diligently follows at Mori’s heels.

The Hokage accepts their report with a nod and a smile, and Mori leads Itachi back to Training Ground Twelve. There's couple of chuunin tossing shuriken in the target area, but that's not what the two of them are there for.

Itachi yawns out of the corner of Mori’s eye, which only reaffirms his decision for today's ‘training’.

“You know tree walking?” Mori asks, as they draw up to the treeline.  “You channel chakra to your feet and then you can stick to vertical surfaces and whatnot.”

Mori demonstrates as he talks and looks over at Itachi.

The boy shrugs and sticks his foot on the tree. Within a minute, he's gotten it down and can comfortably walk up and down the trunk.

 _Holy shit,_ Mori thinks, and he resolves to never ever teach the kid something dangerous.

“Well, that was good,” Mori says, keeping the slight tinge of fear out of his voice. “Follow me.”

They walk up the tree trunk. Mori stops at a thick branch near the middle of the tree and walks out onto it. Itachi follows.

“When you're out on missions, you might have to sleep in some weird places,” Mori says. “Sometimes you might even have to sleep in a tree.”

A pause. Itachi looks around and then down at the branch he's standing on. Then he blinks and tilts his head. “You want me to sleep in this tree?”

It takes everything Mori has to not burst out in laughter. Itachi is obviously tired -- prodigy or not, he _is_ seven years old -- but the betrayed look in his eyes is hilarious. No doubt the kid was counting on going to the park or wandering around town.

“Sleep without falling out,” Mori nods. “Sometimes ninja have sleeping habits that can jeopardize the mission.”

For example, Ryuu-sensei snored unless he slept on his back. Mori used to sprawl out and take up too much space before he broke himself out of that particular habit.

Itachi stands silently on the branch for a few moments, taking in Mori’s words.

“Is something wrong?” Mori asks.

Itachi frowns. “You want me to take a _nap.”_

 _You need it,_ Mori thinks, casting an eye over the slight slouch in Itachi’s shoulders and the almost droopiness in his eyes. But the kid doesn't seem to care about his own fatigue. It reminds him of Kenji, when he was younger -- having to force his brother to stay still and sleep at a decent hour...

Oh God, he's actually ordering the Uchiha prodigy to _naptime._

“Naps are also very important,” Mori blurts out. “Ninja do a lot of strenuous activity. We make up that energy somehow.”

He shuts his mouth when he realizes that he literally just repeated what Izo says when he falls asleep in the middle of something.

Itachi gets down on his knees and shifts until he’s lying down on the branch with his back against the tree trunk. He crosses his arms and closes his eyes.

“Arms uncrossed,” Mori says. “Better balance.”

Without opening his eyes, Itachi uncrosses his arms with a huff.

“If you fall out, I'll catch you,” Mori says.

“Thank you, Mori-sensei.”

After a few minutes, Itachi manages to doze off, too. Mori isn't surprised. Itachi did the work of a three-man genin team all by himself. He certainly earned this nap.

Mori has to nudge the kid back into a safer position, but only once. Itachi won't have any problems sleeping in weird places.

 _Prodigies are unfair,_ Mori thinks. Honestly? Being skilled at _sleeping?_

While Itachi sleeps, Mori takes the time to relax on his own. Being a teacher to Uchiha Itachi -- _Clan Killer Itachi_ \-- is still surreal, still somewhat terrifying. He's worried he'll make things worse and he's worried that he won't be able to unravel the secrets of the Uchiha Massacre. But…

He looks over at Itachi’s sleeping form. With his eyes closed and face relaxed, he looks… like a child. Innocent.

It fills Mori with a sense of grief and loss. At the age of thirteen, this young boy destroyed the entirety of his family and left behind a broken little brother in his wake.

For better or for worse, Itachi’s _grown_ on him. For better or for worse, Itachi’s a ticking time bomb.

He needs to do everything he can to stop the kid from blowing up.

 

* * *

 

_Present day:_

 

Aya shows up seventeen minutes later, dragged to the Hokage’s tower by some generic chuunin. Team Four waits in the lobby, and Aya freezes in her steps as she takes it in.

“You've _got_ to be kidding me,” she mutters.

Chie, Issei, and Riku stand together and watch her with wide eyes.

“Please tell me this isn't a roundabout way of assigning me a genin team,” Aya whines to the chuunin. “I'm trying to find a different genin team right now. It's 4:48 and I need to drop some hints, Mori’s gonna _kill me_ \--”

“Er, Masuko-san?” the desk shinobi says. “Eh… The mission has been canceled. Your presence is no longer required.”

Aya looks severely confused. She throws her hands up in the air. “Why am I here, then?”

Chie takes a deep breath. “Masuko-san!”

“Eh?”

“Um. We're Mori-sensei’s genin team! We're the ones that called you here!”

Aya blinks. From his position, Mori flares his chakra slightly and gives Aya a discreet thumbs up.

Aya gives him a _look_ but turns her attention back to the kids. She studies them carefully.

“You… you called me here,” Aya says.

“Yeah, it was Riku’s idea. Anyway, what’s Mori-sensei’s favorite color?”

“Wait a sec, kid,” Aya says. “Let me get this straight. You found out that I was Mori’s teammate and then summoned me for a nonexistent D-rank?”

Chie’s smile falters.

“Yeah, got a problem with that?” Issei says. Riku elbows Issei in the gut while hissing ‘ _don't mess this one up too.’_

Aya stares at them for a moment more before groaning and dragging a hand over her face.

“I can't believe I got beat out by _genin,_ ” she mumbles.

It takes everything Mori has to keep a straight face at that. Itachi rolls his eyes and discreetly ushers them out of the missions office while Mori snickers softly the whole time.

“What was that about?” Itachi asks, once they're out of earshot and their henges are released.

“It's tradition,” Mori says, still laughing. “I used the color test on the last three teams I tested. Aya tracks them down to drop hints. Except this year, they found her first.”

Itachi shakes his head.

“I have a good feeling about this team,” Mori murmurs.

Itachi frowns and turns back to look at the entrance to the missions office. Aya is leading the three genin out and walking them down the street.

Mori and Itachi duck into a convenient alleyway so they can eavesdrop unseen. Together, they peer out as the group of four walk by.

“Mori’s favorite color, huh?” she asks, a grin on her face. “Ahh. He warned me about this, you know.”

Chie and Riku look horrified.

“Are you not gonna tell us?” Riku asks.

“I'll tell you _something,_ ” Aya says. “Patience, young ducklings. Did you guys talk to Yuko yet?”

“Did you just call us ‘ducklings’?” Issei demands.

It's Chie’s turn to elbow Issei. Issei grunts, but otherwise shows no reaction.

“Demanding, aren't you?” Aya laughs. “Let me guess: you pissed Yuko off, didn't you?”

Issei scowls and looks away.

“Ah, glasses-kun,” Aya says. “Fear not. _I'll_ actually give you something to go off of.”

Issei groans at the nickname Aya assigned to him.

Meanwhile, Chie perks up. “Really?”

“Yep!” Aya says. “I'll give you three different colors to choose from.”

Rikuto relaxes. “Oh, thank _god._ We have three guesses left.”

“Is that so?” Aya asks. “How lucky!” She claps her hands together and beams at the three kids.

Mori snickers as Itachi shoots him a strange look.

“Can you tell us?” Issei asks.

“Of course!” Aya says. “Your options are: green, yellow, and black.”

Mori coughs. Itachi looks at him, startled.

“Did you tell her to say that?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Mori says.

“Is this test even possible to _pass?”_ Itachi wonders.

“It should be,” Mori says.

Meanwhile, the children debate over which color is the correct choice.

“Black is a great color,” Chie says, a happy grin on her face. “I wouldn't be surprised if Mori-sensei liked black!”

“I think it's green,” Riku says. “I mean, statistically it's the most likely answer. Also, he wears a green vest.”

“All the chuunin and jounin wear green vests, dumbass,” Issei counters. “And black isn’t even a color, loudmouth. It's probably yellow.”

Aya laughs. “Well, it's a good thing you have three guesses left, right? You should probably head back to the Twelfth Training Ground.”

“Good plan, Masuko-san!” Chie says. She ducks into a bow. “Thank you for your assistance!”

Her teammates echo her gratitude.

“No problem,” Aya says, waving them off. “Good luck!”

And then Team Four begins to rush to the grounds.

“Should we head back there first?” Itachi asks.

“No,” Mori says. “We'll still follow them. They've got one more coming to them.”

It's five o’clock.

The sun dips down, and the shadows of the buildings lengthen. Mori looks at them thoughtfully as he and Itachi silently follow after the kids.

 

* * *

 

_Three years ago:_

 

When Itachi shows up to training the next morning, he's decked out in full Uchiha branded clothing. His hitai-ate is fully visible and tied firmly around his head, and his face is carefully smoothed over, completely blank.

The reason for this becomes obvious when Mori recognizes the imposing figure behind the kid.

 _Ah, shit,_ he thinks. _I should've known it wouldn't last._

“Hayakawa-san.”

Mori smiles at the man, keeping his posture relaxed and without any hints of discomfort or fear. “Uchiha-sama.” Mori ducks into a respectful bow.

Uchiha Fugaku frowns at him with dark, intense eyes. He shifts slightly, everything in his body language screaming _‘powerful’_ and _‘superior’_.

“You are supposed to be teaching my son,” he says, his voice deep and booming.

“Yes, Uchiha-sama,” Mori says, starting to feel sweat on his palms.

“Hn. May I ask why you are not fulfilling your duties?” Uchiha asks.

_And there it is._

If, after two weeks, the only new ‘ninja’ skill that prodigy extraordinaire Itachi had learned was _tree-walking_ , there were bound to be questions.

“With all due respect, Uchiha-sama, I _have_ been teaching your son,” Mori says.

“Is that so?”

Mori doesn't look Fugaku in the eye -- that would be suicide at this point -- but he does nod.

“Some of my police force have told me that you took him to the park -- several times, in fact.”

_Ah, fuck._

Of course they were being watched. Mori had just assumed that the Sandaime’s promises relieved any suspicion on the Uchiha end, but of _course_ they were watching to make sure Itachi was getting an ‘education’.

“An exercise in blending in and gathering information,” Mori says.

“You made my son _buy your groceries._ ”

“Training in the art of negotiation.”

“According to one of my men, you had him take a _nap_ yesterday.”

“I also taught him tree-walking,” Mori blurts out.

“My son is a _prodigy,”_ Uchiha says. “He is the most gifted child in my clan, in the _village_ , even. Under a different sensei, he could have improved _exponentially,_ even in the short time you have been given. But you… _you_ are wasting his talents.”

 _His talents will get you killed!_ Mori thinks.

He glances over at Itachi. The boy is looking firmly ahead, not meeting his eyes. But he's not meeting Fugaku’s eyes either. Itachi’s hands are curled tightly into fists, and his knuckles are turning white.

“The Sandaime’s faith was misplaced. Obviously you are not capable of mentoring my _clan heir._ ” Uchiha says coldly.

At the words, Itachi flinches.

“You will no longer be teaching my son,” Uchiha informs him.

The words cut to Mori’s core.

 _Isn't this what you wanted?_ He asks himself. _You didn't want to teach him in the first place._

Mori looks over at Itachi, but the kid only stares at the ground.

He's stiff and robotic, again, not at all like the pouty child who tentatively asked a young girl for her favorite color. Not at all like the boy who stumbled and stuttered over slang and contractions, who pulled out the puppy dog eyes when bargaining with a fruit vendor for a bag of apples.

Itachi stands stiff and still, muscles tensed and coiled and ready for action. He doesn’t look like a boy. He looks like a ninja.

The realization is sadder than Mori thought it would be.

“I understand, Uchiha-sama,” Mori says quietly.

“Good,” Uchiha says. “Come along, Itachi.”

Itachi silently trails after his father as they leave Training Ground Twelve. Mori feels oddly empty inside, a strange combination of guilt and sorrow.

At the edge of the grounds, Itachi pauses and looks back briefly.

Somehow, that small action makes Mori feel even worse.

 

* * *

 

_Present day:_

 

It's 5:18 when Team Four stumbles across their last hint. It's just outside of Training Ground Twelve, and Mori and Itachi are both crouched in the treeline when the three kids come rushing in.

And then pause.

Before them lies another ninja. Who is literally lying on the ground, eyes closed, and hands behind his head.

“Er… Shinobi-san?” Chie asks. “Are you, um. Okay?”

“Yes.”

The man lying on the ground doesn't offer anything more.

Mori grins fiercely. _Classic Izo._

“Okay then…” Chie mumbles. She and her teammates move to go around Izo and enter the clearing in order to meet Mori.

But before they can take another step, they find themselves suddenly frozen -- unable to move, locked in place.

“You're Hayakawa’s new brats, aren't you?” Izo asks, not bothering to open his eyes and look at them.

Chie yelps. “Are _you_ doing this?”

Izo yawns. “Maybe.”

Issei bristles. “What's it to _you?”_

“Nothing, really.”

Issei grumbles. “Then let us _go!”_

“You're a Nara, aren't you?” Riku asks. He'd turn his head to get a better look at the man, but he's still locked into his position. “This is a Shadow Technique.”

“Not bad, kid,” Izo drawls. He finally sits up and opens his eyes, casting an appraising eye over the three kids.

“Hm.”

“You wanna say something?” Chie asks, irritated with the man's behavior.

Izo keeps his stare lazy and uninterested. “You really think _you_ can pass his test?” Izo asks. “He's failed three teams before.”

“We're passing it!” Chie declares passionately. “We've got our answers!”

“Really?” Izo asks. He gets to his feet.

The three children attempt to move, but it's pointless -- they're still trapped in the long shadow cast by the trees on the grounds.

Izo yawns and stretches. Then he looks at the area, blinking in mild confusion and interest.

“Huh. Which training grounds are these again?”

“What, did you fall asleep and forget where you were?” Issei snarls. “What kind of ninja _are_ you?”

“One of a higher rank,” Izo shoots back. He turns to Riku, still asking the question with his eyes.

“Twelve,” Riku answers. “We’re at the Twelfth Training Ground.”

“Ahh, I should’ve seen that coming,” Izo muses. “He’s tested the last three genin teams here.”

“Really?” Riku asks.

“Mori always liked this spot,” Izo says. “Especially at sunset. Said that it looked nice.”

“Er. Okay,” Riku says.

Up in his hiding spot, Mori laughs at Riku’s confused expression.

“Is that not a bit too subtle for kids?” Itachi asks.

Mori snorts. “Kids? You realize that they're _older_ than you, right?”

“I'm a _chuunin,_ ” Itachi counters.

“You're _Mori-sensei’s_ friend?” Chie asks, drawing their attention back to the interaction. Stars are settling down in her eyes. Mori wonders if this particular brand of fangirl is going to be a problem if the brats manage to pass.

“Yeah,” Izo says.

Chie looks like she's going to say something else when Issei cuts her off.

“Okay, that's enough,” Issei says. “Chie, we don't have time for your fangirling, _it's 5:22._ And you, shinobi-san, _let us go._ ”

Izo manages to look both bored and faintly amused at the same time. “Okay, then.”

He abruptly drops his jutsu, and the kids crash into the ground.

“What the _hell?”_ Issei shouts.

“You wanted me to let you go, kid,” Izo shrugs, and he begins to walk away. “A word of advice: everyone does everything for a reason.”

Issei scowls. “I didn't ask for your damn --”

“Issei!” Chie says. “ _5:22!”_

“Thank you for the advice, Nara-san!” Riku chirps out. He and Chie shove the angry Issei away and into the clearing.

“Good luck, kiddos!” Izo calls back.

Mori grins as Izo disappears out of sight.

“I don’t think they’re going to get it,” Itachi says.

“Hm, maybe,” Mori says. “But I’ve got hope.”

 

* * *

 

_Three years ago:_

 

“You didn’t teach Uchiha Itachi anything,” the Sandaime says.

“It’s not like that!” Mori protests.

The Sandaime sighs and leans back in his chair. It’s been two days since Uchiha Fugaku removed Mori from his position as Itachi’s sensei. From what Mori had heard, Itachi had been put onto a normal genin team with a couple of teammates about five years older than him.

Fugaku probably didn’t care who Itachi’s teacher was, as long as they taught him things beyond what Mori did.

“I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to teach him violent stuff,” Mori explains. “Uchiha Itachi grows up to be an untouchable missing-nin. Even Hatake Kakashi can’t touch him.”

“Did you at least get a good read on the boy’s character before Fugaku removed you?” the Sandaime asks.

Mori quiets down and sighs.

“He’s a quiet kid,” Mori says. “Polite. Pacifistic, really -- he actually _enjoyed_ the sort-of-training I was putting him through. Likely he’s being pressured by the Uchiha to force himself in his ninja training. He doesn’t seem like the type to snap, but if it continues like this it’ll likely get worse.”

The Sandaime sighs. “Prodigies experience high pressure at a very young age,” he says sadly. “And as the Clan Heir, Itachi will be under a lot of stress.”

“He truly has talent, though,” Mori says. “He mastered tree-walking in under a minute and he’s very smart for his age.”

“We will just have to keep an eye on him,” the Sandaime says. “If worse comes to worse…”

 _He’ll be killed._ The words go unspoken.

Mori gulps.

Lose the Uchiha prodigy -- lose his _student --_ or lose the entire clan. He can only hope that they'll never have to make that choice.

It's an unfair world that shinobi live in.

Mori exits the Hokage’s tower with a slouch and a scowl.

 _Fuck the Kyuubi,_ he thinks.

Of course he got the chance to fix everything, and _of course_ he got attached to a mass murderer. This particular situation isn't directly the Kyuubi’s fault, but cursing the fox demon has become something of a habit over the past few years.

But thought isn't as heated as it used to be. It's faded into an expression, almost -- the way one would say ‘oh shit’ or ‘ah fuck’.

After so much time spent reliving and changing his adolescent years, he's become more resigned to this situation than anything else.

Mori wanders the streets, unsure of what he should do next. He supposes he'll just go back to taking missions and killing time in between research sessions on the Uchiha.

Mori sighs as he takes a seat on a bench in front of a park. This is too much.

“Mori-sensei?”

Mori turns his head and blinks.

“Itachi?”

The kid is standing next to him, staring at him almost expectantly. Mori gives the boy an amused smile.

“Don't you have a team now? You should be training with them.”

“I don't like them,” Itachi says bluntly.

Mori snickers. _He's come a long way from that emotionless robot I first taught,_ he thinks. In two weeks, he somehow managed to get this kid to warm up to him. _I guess those two weeks weren't a complete waste._

“You should try,” Mori tells Itachi. “Teamwork is very important.”

“The instructor is working us on target practice and it's very easy,” Itachi says. “I don't want to do it.”

“Try helping out your teammates, then,” Mori says, not missing the way Itachi said ‘the instructor’ and not ‘my instructor’.

“They won't listen to me because I'm seven years old,” Itachi informs him.

“I see,” Mori says.

Itachi makes no move to leave, and all Mori can think is that there's probably an Uchiha hiding on the roof and watching him talk to Itachi.

“Why don't you practice what I taught you?” Mori suggests. “Find out what their favorite colors are. It'll be more challenging if they're older than you, but I think you can handle it.”

Itachi’s eyes widen and he nods. “Okay, sensei.”

Mori smiles at him. “You know I'm not your sensei anymore, right?”

Itachi replies without missing a beat. “Habits are hard to break, Mori-sensei.”

“Cheeky brat,” Mori mutters. “Go back to your team. I don't want your father raining fire down on my head again.”

“Yes, sensei!”

Itachi bows down, hair bobbing around his face, and he scampers off -- hopefully back to his team.

Mori smiles after Itachi, and shakes his head on fond exasperation.

 

* * *

 

_Present Day:_

 

This year’s bunch seems like a lot of work. Between Chie’s fangirling, Riku’s nervous energy, and Issei’s lack of tact, it’d be a _challenge_ to keep them focused and functioning properly.

But they stuck together as a team and used the few resources they had to track down Aya and get their clues. They’ve got potential, and Mori’s excited to see where they could go.

“Thanks for helping me out today, Itachi-kun,” Mori says, and he reaches out to ruffle Itachi’s hair. “Just like old times, hmm?”

Itachi gives him a tight smile. “It was fun, Mori-sensei.”

Mori smiles at the boy. Then he drops out of the tree he was hiding in. Itachi remains hidden, keeping watch over the scene.

Chie, Issei, and Riku jump as Mori’s feet hit the ground. They turn around, startled, and their eyes widen when they see him.

“So you’re back,” Mori says, as he walks up to them.

“Mori-sensei!” Chie immediately perks up and bounds up to him. Issei and Riku follow her, slightly less enthusiastically.

Mori studies their eyes. Chie is confident about her choice of color. Riku, though nervous, has a strong feeling about his guess.

It’s Issei, though, that catches his attention. The boy takes off his glasses and cleans them slowly. He’s thinking. Mori wonders if he’s figured it out.

“So… three more guesses and about eight minutes left,” Mori says. “What do we have?”

“We found your teammate, Masuko-san!” Chie reports. “She gave us three different colors!”

“Let’s hear it then,” Mori says, a wry smile on his face.

“Is it black?” Chie asks.

“Unfortunately, no,” Mori says. Chie deflates at this, and Mori smiles and pats her head.

“Two more chances.”

“Green,” Riku says, his voice clear, if a bit quiet.

“Ahh, sorry,” Mori shrugs. “It’s not green. One more chance.”

Issei opens his mouth. “I think it’s…” he trails off and frowns, not finishing his sentence.

Mori grins.

_He’s thinking._

Issei catches the grin, so he scowls and narrows his eyes at Mori.

Chie frowns at Issei. “What, do you not remember what Masuko-san told us?”

“I remember,” Issei says slowly. “But… why would she give us three answers? What’s the point of that?”

“What do you mean?” Riku asks. “It’d make it harder for us to get it right, right?”

“Look, assuming that --” Issei flushes and looks at the ground shamefully. “Assuming that I didn’t ruin our chances with Hyuuga-san, she would have probably given us _one_ color, right?’

Chie shrugs. “Probably.”

“And assuming that loudmouth didn’t waste two chances at the beginning,” Issei continues, “Hyuuga-san’s color plus Masuko-san’s colors would make four guesses. That’s four out of five.”

Riku narrows his eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

“Mori-sensei would have given us five guesses for a reason, right?” Issei asks, looking at him. “Had we gone with whatever it was they told us… we’d still have one guess left.”

“Are you saying that all the colors Masuko-san gave us are _wrong?”_ Chie asks.

Issei scowls, thinking hard. “That one guy,” he says. “The Nara. What was it that he said?”

“‘Everyone does everything for a reason’,” Riku quotes.

Chie bites her lip, following the trail of thought. “So… Nara-san had a reason for stopping us, then,” she said. “And if we did have one guess left…”

“Rikuto, what did he say?” Issei asks. “The stuff about Training Ground Twelve.”

Riku looks at Mori. “He said that Mori-sensei liked this spot, especially at sunset.”

Mori knows he's grinning unnervingly wide right now, but he can't help it. Three teams he's tested in this timeline -- eight teams total, if you count the time travel -- and not a single one managed to catch on. He gestures to the kids, encouraging them to continue on with their thought process.

The three students look around the clearing. It's still the same as it was around noon -- a grassy clearing framed by trees and rocks. But there's a clear view of the Hokage Mountain, the four stone faces strong and still, with crisp shadows from the setting sun that define every feature.

5:26. The sun is dipping down, shadows are lengthening. The sky is indigo on one side and a brilliant sunset orange on the other. The Hokage Mountain reflects the colors, a slightly dustier shade of orange than that of the sky.

The sight is breathtaking, beautiful. A rosy glow envelops the scene. It's warm and comforting, cozy. Mori smiles at the sight, but he smiles even harder as his students’ eyes widen in realization and understanding.

“Orange,” Issei says quietly. “Your favorite color is orange.”

All is still for a moment as they take in the view.

“Congratulations, Team Four,” Mori says, a kind smile on his face. “You pass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, this was kinda an experiment? I've seen authors write things like this before but I think it's more suited to one-shots, whoops. I apologize for any loss in writing quality :D  
> I don't know if I like the jumping between past and present thing. Maybe I'll take out all the Itachi parts and post it in a separate chapter or side story? IDK.
> 
> ANYWAY.
> 
> I know that I'm the one writing this but Mori's and the Sandaime's misunderstanding about the massacre is SO FRUSTRATING. UGh, like figure it out already! (I say as I brainstorm ways to intentionally mislead them)
> 
> (Orange, you ask? Why orange? Maybe I chose it randomly. Maybe it has nothing to do with the plot.)
> 
> Also, Mori's genin team is a DELIGHT to write and I love them all so much.


	8. The Massacre, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go smoothly, for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate exposition chapters but they're necessary, unfortunately.
> 
> Also, this thing hit 50,000 words. Which makes it one of the longest things I've ever written, published (online) or unpublished.

Yuko groans and drops her head onto the table. Aya giggles and pats her back. 

“You _ passed _ that set of brats?” Yuko asks. She slowly raises her head, a horrified expression on her normally stoic face. “They're your  _ team?  _ Why would you do this to me? Why did you  _ pass _ them?”

Mori unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter.

“Just because they noticed a little detail about you doesn't mean they shouldn't be ninja,” Izo drawls. “Really, it's  _ good  _ that they're so observant.”

“Just lacking manners,” Mori chuckles.

“Shut up, Izo,” Yuko growls. “Just because you’re taller than three-quarters of the village --”

“-- which no one can tell because he slouches so much --” Aya adds in.

“-- doesn’t mean you can look down on me!” Yuko finishes.

Silence falls upon the group. Yuko glares at Izo with righteous fury while Aya and Mori valiantly attempt to hold in their laughter.

Izo smirks. “You realize,  _ I literally look down on you --” _

Yuko moans and hides her face in her arms. “I hate all of you,” she mumbles.

Aya laughs and pats Yuko on the back. “Well,  _ you’re _ not the one teaching them,” Aya says. “I, for one, am impressed. They called me in for a fake mission so they could ask me about Mori’s favorite color.”

“Really?” Yuko asks. “They were seeking you out, too? Mori, did you tell them that we were on a team?”

“No,” Mori says. “Uh, Chie’s the daughter of Nagata Fumie.”

Izo’s eyes widen in realization. 

Yuko frowns in thought. “Nagata… oh.” She glances over at Aya uncertainly, but looks away just as quickly. “That family you saved.”

They’d grieved through the Kyuubi attack and Ryuu-sensei’s death together, but Aya had taken it the hardest. They never really talked about the circumstances behind Mori’s promotion to jounin much -- it held painful memories for all of them, Aya especially. 

Aya shakes her head and smiles at them reassuringly, encouraging Mori to go on with his story. If her smile is a bit more strained than normal, no one comments on it.

“Yeah,” Mori says, moving past the subject. “She remembered us, so that's how they knew to seek you two out.”

“What about the other kids?” Izo asks. 

“Nakai Rikuto and Tachibana Issei,” Mori supplies. “Riku is the tall one, Issei is the rude one.”

Yuko scowls at the mention of the tactless boy. “Insolent brat.”

“I'll do my best to teach him manners,” Mori promises, grinning at Yuko’s grumpiness. 

At this, the waiter arrives, delivering their food. Aya lights up, enthusiastically receiving her meal and licking her lips.

“Happy birthday to me!” she sings, grabbing her chopsticks and beaming. “Let’s do this!”

“You’d better finish everything you ordered,” Yuko warns. “I don’t want to pay extra because you bit off more than you could chew.”

“Yuko,” Aya says, picking up a piece of shrimp and shoving it into her mouth. She turns and smiles at the Hyuuga, who cringes in disgust as Aya chews loudly at her. “Have I  _ ever  _ failed to finish my meals?”

“You know what, Mori? You can teach Aya manners, instead,” Yuko says, carefully picking up her hot tea and sipping it without slurping. She sets it down gently.

“It’s been twelve years, Yuko. Do you really think it’s going to happen?” Mori asks, grinning amusedly.

Aya catches his eye and smirks. Mori looks over at Izo, who nods.

In synchronization, they all take an inappropriately large bite of food and chew as loud as they can.

Yuko grimaces. “I hate you all.”

“You  _ love  _ us!” Aya beams, slinging an arm around Yuko. “Us commoners balance out your prissy Hyuuga upbringing.”

“I am  _ not _ prissy!” Yuko protests.

“You’re prissy everywhere but the battlefield,” Izo informs her. “And even then, you like keeping that air of dignified superiority.”

Mori laughs as Yuko rolls her eyes. “He’s got you pegged,” he states.

Yuko scoffs, but she’s grinning. “If  _ I’m _ prissy,” she says, leveling her gaze at Mori. “Then  _ you’re _ a recluse. All you do nowadays are missions, training, and laze about. You don’t even do anything when the rest of us are off on missions.”

“Yeah,” Aya agrees. “You really  _ are _ the personification of the average ninja.”

Mori makes a face at the idea, and Aya and Izo snicker at his expression.

“Having a genin team will be good for you,” Yuko declares.

“I’ve seen  _ your _ team,” Mori says. “You really wanna be the one to say that?”

“Only  _ I  _ get to pick on my kids,” Yuko replies. “And, as annoying as they are, they're a good bunch. Your team might be rude, but from what I've seen, they work together. That's half the battle.”

“Plus, you're good with kids,” Aya adds offhandedly. 

“I got fired as a sensei,” Mori reminds her, referring to his two-week adventure as Uchiha Itachi’s teacher. 

“And it was  _ hilarious, _ ” Izo mutters, a mischievous grin on his lips. 

“Shut up.”

“Itachi-kun still follows you around,” Aya says. “Kenji turned out alright. And look at Iruka! He's an Academy sensei now!”

Mori scratches the back of his neck, thinking of a future that once was. “Iruka would've been one anyway.”

“Well, the  _ point  _ is that having a genin team will give you something to focus on,” Yuko says quietly. “You're a good shinobi, Mori, but outside of missions you don't really do anything.”

Mori only shrugs in reply. He can't exactly deny it.

“Twenty-one years old and as boring as hell,” Aya comments. She takes another bite of her meal and points her chopsticks at Mori. “Two decades you've been alive and you don't have a hobby.”

Mori winces, because taking into account his time traveling, he's thirty-three and still doesn't know what to do with his free time.

“Cut him some slack,” Izo drawls. “He’s educating the next generation, one brat at a time.”

Aya giggles. “Told you that you’d be ‘Mori-sensei’ one day.”

“I remember,” Mori says, thinking back to that conversation. The day he met Iruka and ended up becoming a sort-of role model to the kid. It's a strange thought. Often Mori wonders how much of an impact he had on the kid, how much of a difference he'd made in Iruka’s life. 

Mori knows the own differences in his  _ own  _ experience -- this version of his life is more connected. In a world where Aya and his family survived the Kyuubi, in a world where he saved Nagata Chie, Hayakawa Mori is a jounin instructor with close friends and family, not the ANBU in a pig mask with one and a half friends.

It’s not until he has his friends around him that he remembers how lonely he used to be, and it only makes him more determined to fix the other disasters he remembers.

The four friends fall into a comfortable silence, content to eat and simply  _ be _ with each other. This something Mori didn't have the first time around, and it fills him with confidence. 

He  _ can _ change things. He  _ can  _ fix the future. 

And, perhaps most importantly, there's still hope for Uchiha Itachi.

* * *

 

Team Four meets at Training Ground Twelve at 8 am. Mori arrives an hour and a half early and waits in the trees. 

It is Nakai Rikuto that shows up first, about half an hour early. The boy is dressed practically, with well-worn and sturdy shoes and clothing that is light enough for exercise and tight enough to not get in the way while fighting. He wears the standard weapons holster, but based on the way he constantly brushes the pouch, he is unused to carrying it and likely does not care for weaponry. Mori recalls Riku’s goal to become a taijutsu specialist, and he wonders about the bookworm’s motivation for something so seemingly out of character. 

Upon seeing the empty training field, Riku settles down by a rock and pulls out a book. 

Mori checks -- it's a normal fiction adventure, with nothing much to do with ninja. He grins as Riku becomes more and more absorbed in his book, to the point where he doesn't notice Chie headed his way.

She's wearing a loose, short-sleeved shirt and a light scarf around her neck, and her weapons pouch is secured well. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail today -- a good decision, to keep it out of her face. She looks around the clearing for a moment before spotting Riku, and her face lights up. 

Chie strolls up right next to him and waits for a moment. When Riku doesn't acknowledge her presence, she clears her throat and leans in. 

“Good morning, nerd!” she chirps, right next to his ear. 

Riku jumps, nearly slamming his head on the rocks. “When did  _ you _ get here?” he gasps out, clutching his chest and taking deep breaths. 

“Riku, you nerd, I've been here for five minutes,” Chie chides. “What are you reading?”

Riku holds up the cover and shows it to her. 

Chie makes a face. “Right. That lame series you like to read.”

“It's not  _ lame,”  _ Riku scowls. He puts his book away. “What time is it? Did Issei or sensei show up?” 

“Nope,” Chie says, popping the ‘p’. She plops down next to Riku, and they fall silent, unable to come up with more conversation topics. Chie drums her fingers on her knees and Riku flips through the pages in his book. 

Five minutes before 8am, Issei shows up. He wears dark clothing and shorts. Mori can tell by looking at the material that the fabric doesn't make much noise when moving around, which is nice. Issei joins the rest of his teammates and frowns. 

“Where's Mori-sensei?”

“Probably off doing awesome ninja stuff!” Chie says.

Issei rolls his eyes and takes a seat on the ground. Chie opens her mouth to say something, but then changes her mind. Riku sighs. His fingers twitch towards his book, itching to read the next chapter. 

Mori studies their awkward silence. They know each other, and get along for the most part, but they're not friends, not comrades. 

Well, nothing a good training session and a D-rank can't fix. 

He shunshins down, appearing in a swirl of leaves as the three fresh genin stiffen in alarm. 

“Good morning,” he says. “Nice to see that you're all here on time!”

Riku tries to breathe correctly while Issei glares at Mori. It seems that they didn’t enjoy Mori’s surprise of appearing out of nowhere.

“Good morning, Mori-sensei!” Chie says, excitedly jumping to her feet. “That was so cool! Are we going to learn to do that?”

“Eventually,” Mori promises, unable to keep himself from smiling at her enthusiasm. “But, seeing as you're all fresh genin, we'll have to start small.”

Issei scowls at that comment, Riku shrugs, and Chie nods excitedly.

“So… let’s warm up, then, shall we?”

* * *

 

Mori takes a page out of Yuko’s book and has them start with a quick jog. He runs them through some basic stretches afterwards, and then proceeds to start them on his least favorite stamina exercise (courtesy of Shima Ryuu, bless his soul).

It’s not hard for them, not at first. He has them run a zig-zagged route about six-hundred meters long. The catch is that they have to finish it under a minute, and all three of them finish the first run with seconds to spare.

And then he has them do it again.

“Okay,” Chie huffs out, flushed with exertion. “I can do this. We can do this, right, team?”

Issei rolls his eyes, but determination is etched into every inch of his frame. Rikuto, who is surprisingly the most in-shape out of all of them, nods and lines up on the starting line, breathing hard.

The second time, they finish a little slower than the first, but they’re still under a minute. The third time, Riku and Chie are tied at fifty-eight seconds Issei finishes in one minute exactly. All three genin practically fall on the dirt as soon as they finish.

“On your feet!” Mori barks out. “It’s easier to breathe if you just remain standing. Put your hands on your heads.”

“We’re doing this  _ again?” _ Issei grumbles from his position on the ground.

“Yeah,” Mori says. The exercise is a bit of a shortcut -- it’s testing both speed and endurance. They don’t have the luxury of letting out all their energy in a single burst, but they can’t spread it out little by little, either. “On your marks!”

Issei mutters curses as he rises on wobbly legs.

“Get set!”

Chie grits her teeth; Riku groans as he prepares to run. 

“Go!”

The three genin run off at a brisk pace. Mori recalls the first time he’d done this exercise with his own team. Yuko and Aya had joined forces in voicing their complaints to their amused sensei; Mori had been too busy trying to breathe to speak. Ryuu-sensei, of course, had stood calmly, timing their runs with a sort of amused air -- offering encouragements and criticism when needed, supporting them and bringing up Team 14 to be the best they could be.

_ Ryuu-sensei was a good teacher, _ Mori thinks.

Mori clenches his jaw when he remembers that Ryuu-sensei had been scheduled to teach another team that year, before the Kyuubi.

He wonders what team he would’ve tested. If they would have passed.

_ Stop, _ he tells himself, before he falls into the pit of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybes’.  _ Focus on what’s in front of you. _

Riku runs in at a minute and one second, with Chie and Issei right on his heels. They hunch over, gasping for breath, and sweat running down their foreheads.

“Ahh, you were so close,” Mori laments. “Just over a minute. If all of you can finish the next one on time, we’ll stop.”

“More?” Issei complains. “What the hell is  _ wrong _ with you?”

“Oi!” Chie gasps out. “Don’t be rude to our sensei!”

Issei rolls his eyes and turns on her. “Sweet dango on a  _ stick _ , Chie, can you stop fangirling for  _ one second  _ \--”

“Okay!” Mori raises his voice slightly to get their attention. “If you have enough breath to argue, you have enough breath to run. Under a minute, all of you! Go!”

The three kids sprint off, panting hard. They don’t make it in time.

Mori sighs and has them run one more before taking pity and giving them a water break. As the kids chug the water bottles Mori brought for them, he tells them about the origin of the drill. 

“Your sensei did that to you?” Chie asks, looking incredibly curious. 

“Yep,” Mori replies. “I know how it feels. I bet your legs feel like they're going to burst, huh?”

Chie nods. Issei rolls his eyes and mumbles a curse under his breath. Riku smiles hesitantly. 

“Soon, you guys will be able to do ten of those without breaking a sweat,” Mori tells them. 

It's an exaggeration -- even elite ANBU Mori hated this exercise -- but his students’ faces light up with inspiration and determination. 

“We’ll do whatever you throw at us, sensei!” Chie declares.

Riku nods, eyes blazing with determination. Issei glares at Mori, daring him to do his worst. 

Mori grins. “Good.”

* * *

 

He hasn't really planned much past their warm up and their stamina exercises, so he gives them time to recover their energy by whisking them over to a park and sitting them down on a bench. 

They're not Itachi: they know how to mingle. And they're not seven years old: it would be weird for them to try and blend in on the playground in the first place. 

But Mori has bullshitted lessons before, and it's not like this lesson is entirely useless. 

“Observation exercise: Which kids are from ninja clans?” he asks them. 

Chie blinks. “What?”

“Over there.” Mori clarifies by gesturing over to the playground and pointing out the children playing there. “Which ones are from ninja clans, and which ones are not?”

Chie and Riku stare at the group of kids. Issei loosely gestures to a young girl on the slides. “She's ninja.”

“Why?” Mori asks.

Issei smirks. “‘Cause she's got the Uchiha fan on her back.”

Mori looks at the girl in question. He nods in confirmation. 

Chie scowls. “That's too obvious!” she protests. 

“Not obvious enough for you, loudmouth.”

Chie grumbles and rolls her eyes before turning her attention back to the playground. 

Ten minutes pass. Issei points out a bug covered child and a girl who loudly corrects the other children on the ‘proper’ way to play ninja. They’re from the Aburame and Yamanaka clans, respectively.

“Any from you two?” Mori asks, turning to Chie and Riku. Issei has been spotting ninja children left and right, and both Chie and Riku seem intimidated by the other boy’s astute observations.

A pause. 

Riku clears his throat. “The kid on the hill,” he says, a little hesitantly. He chews on his lip before continuing with an explanation. “Dark hair, ponytail, laying down. He looks just like that Nara that gave us the hint for your test.”

Mori studies the kid in question -- one of Izo’s cousins. If he remembers correctly, he's starting at the Academy soon. 

“That’s correct, Riku,” Mori says, “though your reasoning could be a little more sound.”

“Okay, sensei.”

Another pause. Issei’s eyes flick across the playground, passing over some children and lingering on others. After about another minute, Chie takes a deep breath. 

“That one over there,” Chie declares, pointing at a young boy standing off by himself. 

Something close to panic rises up in Mori’s chest.

_ Ah, fuck.  _

Issei scoffs at Chie’s guess. “And what makes you think that?”

“He looks just like the Yondaime!” she says. 

Mori grimaces. Chie is right, of course, but she's not allowed to know that. 

“I don't see it,” Riku says, tilting his head sideways and squinting. 

“He's got the spiky hair,” Chie argues. 

“So does Issei,” Riku points out.

“Issei’s hair is  _ black.” _

Issei begins to open his mouth to join in with the conversation, and with that, Mori clears his throat to draw his students’ attention. 

“Sorry, Chie, but that boy doesn't have any ninja in his family,” he lies. He pretends to check the shadows and nods. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Back to the training grounds, let's do some sparring.”

All three kids perk up at the mention of some real action. Mori quickly ushers them out of the park without looking back at the lonely boy staring longingly at the children on the playground.

* * *

 

Chie volunteers to go first, settling into the standard taijutsu stance taught at the Academy. Mori lets her attack first, his eyes darting around and analyzing her form.

There’s a couple holes and flaws in her defense, but nothing too serious and nothing that practice won’t be able to fix.

What she lacks in form, though, she makes up in strength -- each kick and punch are loaded with force behind it. It’s enough that Mori prefers to dodge her attacks rather than block them. Mori dances around her for a couple minutes before she wears herself out, finally succumbing when Mori trips her over and she hits the dirt face-first. Once she builds up endurance, she’ll definitely be a capable fighter.

There’s a glint in her eyes that speaks of her determination, and when Mori gives her tips and advice for improving her taijutsu, she takes the constructive criticism with a careful ear and nods seriously.

Issei goes next.

He’s not nearly as strong or fast as Chie, but he makes up for it with a wickedly sharp mind -- maneuvering around the grounds, tripping up Mori with convenient rocks and cracks, and even sneaking in a couple of substitutions to get the upper hand. He’s good for a fresh genin. Mori lets Issei get a swipe at his vest before Mori dodges Issei’s strike, latches onto his wrist, and pulls him over and tosses him onto the ground.

Issei scowls as he pushes himself back up onto his feet, but he’s looking at Mori with something a little closer to respect than the tolerant disdain he’s had in his eyes so far.

Mori tells him to work on his speed, strength, and stamina. Issei nods and joins Chie and Riku by the rock in the grounds.

“Riku?” Mori calls out.

The tall boy takes a deep breath and gets to his feet. Chie punches him the shoulder -- presumably as a form of encouragement, but the boy winces at the contact. Riku rubs his shoulders and stands tall in front of Mori as he settles into a taijutsu stance.

Mori lifts up an eyebrow. It’s not the standard Academy style.

“I’m ready sensei,” Riku says.

“Alright,” Mori says.

Riku moves first.

At first, Mori’s caught a little off-guard because he’s unfamiliar with this form. He lets Riku stay on the offensive for a time, analyzing the patterns and noting its strengths and weaknesses.

It’s different, but it suits the boy. Riku deflects, rather than blocking or dodging. It’s a taijutsu style based mostly on redirection. Riku doesn’t aim to  _ hit _ Mori, he’s aiming to make him move -- force him to become unbalanced and give Riku the upper hand.

Though it’s certainly an effective strategy, it hasn’t quite reached its full potential yet in Riku’s twelve-year-old hands. Once Mori can predict Riku’s movements, he intercepts the boy’s next move and locks him into an armbar.

“Not bad, Riku,” Mori says, once he lets go of the kid.

Riku grins and shakes his hair out of his eyes.

“I’ve never seen that style before,” Mori tells the boy. “What form is that?”

Riku blushes. “It’s my clan’s style,” he says, quietly, but with a touch of pride. “My family runs the Nakai Self-Defense dojo for civilians. I’m the second one in my family to become a shinobi.”

“I see,” Mori says, and Riku’s desire to become a taijutsu specialist becomes a little clearer. “I would continue practicing that form, but consider incorporating more offensive movements. That’s more than enough for self-defense, but as a shinobi, you’ll have to be attacking more often.”

“Yes, sensei!” Riku says, and he smiles at him.

Mori turns to his three students. “So, overall… not bad.”

The kids smile with varying intensity. 

Mori checks the time. It's close to noon. Sighing, he pulls out a bag of money and tosses it towards the children. Issei catches the bag and frowns at its contents. 

“Go get yourselves lunch,” Mori says. “Think of it as ‘team bonding’. I'm warning you, though, after today you'll be paying for your own meals with your salary.

Chie perks up. “Salary?”

“Once you three finish your lunch, we'll meet in front of the Hokage Tower,” Mori says, “and we'll get our first mission.”

“Hell yeah!” Chie pumps her fist in the air. She grabs both Issei and Riku by the arms and drags them out of the grounds. “Let’s go get food!”

“You realize we’ll probably be pulling weeds or something, right?” Issei mutters.

“Yeah, but we’re  _ getting paid,” _ Chie says, stressing the last two words. “Hurry up!”

Mori grins as Chie pulls the two boys out of the training grounds and towards food. He grins even harder when Issei stops resisting halfway through and resignedly lets Chie have her way.

* * *

 

While the kids are out getting their own meal, Mori munches on a bag of chips as he strolls down the streets of the village. It’s a little cloudier than it was yesterday, but the air is warm with a pleasant breeze. He finds a bench to sit on and closes his eyes as he settles down.

_ That _ was certainly a morning.

This is his second experience as a formal instructor, and his first time actually teaching a team. Mori knows he’s alright with kids, knows that he can handle them one-on-one and can be a good teacher when he puts his mind to it, but he’s never tried dealing with a group of them before. He feels a new appreciation for his Academy sensei and Ryuu-sensei; this is  _ hard. _

He likes the brats, but it’s  _ so draining. _ He feels another pang of sympathy for Iruka -- the poor teen has to deal with a whole class of six and seven-year-old wannabe ninja brats. All Mori can think is ‘good luck’.

“How was it?” a voice sounds, and Mori cracks open an eye to look at the young boy sitting next to him.

“It went well,” Mori says in reply to the question. “They’re interesting. They’ve got a lot of potential.”

Itachi nods and sits quietly on the bench. Mori pulls out another chip from his bag and tosses it into his mouth.

He swallows. “How have you been, Itachi?”

Itachi shrugs. “I am well. My brother is starting at the Academy next week.”

“Oh, fun,” Mori says. “Sasuke must be excited.”

If there’s one defining aspect about Itachi’s personality, it’s that he really,  _ really _ cares about his younger brother. Itachi is almost hilariously protective of the boy, although sometimes it seems to take a darker turn in Mori’s mind.

He remembers seeing Sasuke around town, ‘the Last Uchiha’, with eyes too bitter for a boy his age. It’s a far cry from the bright, friendly boy he knows as Itachi’s younger brother. Mori knows that in the future, Sasuke was the only one left alive out of the entire Uchiha clan. Was it a convoluted act of love, or an act of hatred? Was Itachi trying to spare Sasuke’s life, or to condemn the young boy to a life of bitter loneliness?

Having seen Itachi’s lack of people skills first hand, Mori’s been suspecting it to be a messed up version of the former, and it  _ terrifies _ him, the devotion Itachi has to Sasuke.

Mori hates it when he finds connections between this Itachi and the S-ranked missing-nin of the future.

“He is,” Itachi says, a hint of fond pride in his voice. “He can’t wait.”

“He’ll be in Iruka’s class, then,” Mori muses. “Iruka’s starting next week, too.”

Itachi nods, a small smile on his face. “Iruka will be a good teacher for him.”

“I’m sure he will,” Mori agrees.

A quiet silence falls upon them. Mori finishes his chips and watches the villagers walk by. He wonders if the kids have finished their lunch yet.

Next to him, Itachi shifts in his seat. Mori glances over and blinks. The boy’s hands are clenched into fists, the knuckles white.

“Is everything alright?” Mori asks, feeling his eyebrows scrunch together in concern.

Itachi opens his mouth, and then closes it. He debates with himself, the tension in his frame betraying the inner conflict inside. 

“My …” Itachi trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

_ My what? _ Mori wonders.  _ My brother? My clan? _

The boy takes in a shallow, shaky breath before stiffening and shaking his head.

“Never mind. I’ll be fine,” Itachi says, getting to his feet.

Mori watches Itachi turn to leave with rising alarm. “Itachi,” he calls out, carefully filtering the panic out of his voice.

The boy turns around. There’s a flash of fear in his eyes that disappears almost as soon as Mori notices it.

Mori’s mouth is dry. He thinks of the ghost town that is the Uchiha Compound, and he thinks of Sasuke, a bright little boy reduced to an angry sliver of himself.  _ I can’t let Itachi snap. _

“You know… if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you,” Mori says.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his mind takes him back to a night long ago, back when he first arrived in the past. A cheap hotel. Mori running away, still overwhelmed with being in the past, with being surrounded by the faces of the dead.

_ If you ever need to talk, _ says Ryuu-sensei, _ I’m here for you. _

A fake smile and a nonchalant shrug.  _ I know. Thanks for everything. _

He’d never taken his sensei up on that offer.

“I trust you, sensei,” Itachi says, and Mori feels a sinking in his stomach as Itachi turns away. The boy leaves.

Mori can only hope that Itachi’s telling the truth.

* * *

 

The D-ranks are… surprisingly smooth. Mori has the genin mowing lawns and pulling weeds for about two hours before dismissing them for the day. Issei butts heads with their clients. Chie butts heads with Issei. Riku is left flailing around, doing damage control and apologizing in Issei’s place. But they get the job done in a reasonable amount of time, and with a reasonable quality, considering it’s their first full day as an actual genin team.

All in all, it could’ve been better, but it could’ve been a lot worse, too.

“It’s kind of suspicious, don’t you think?” Mori asks Kenji.

Hayakawa Kenji rolls his eyes at his brother’s worries and picks up a chunk of barbecue. “You’re just being paranoid.”

“I’m not  _ paranoid,” _ Mori protests. “Children aren’t supposed to be so… normal.”

“Do you even hear yourself when you talk?” Kenji asks. “Not every kid is a prankster or a stone-faced prodigy.” 

Mori stiffens at the reference to Itachi, but Kenji doesn’t notice as he continues on.

“Normal is  _ normal, _ Mori. It’s  _ supposed _ to be like that.”

“Way to state the obvious,” Mori drawls.

Kenji grins toothily. “Didn’t seem that obvious to you, nii-san.”

Mori laughs and shakes his head. Kenji attacks his barbecue, and Mori sips his drink. 

“It's just kind of weird, though,” Mori says, picking up some shrimp and popping it into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully before swallowing. “It seems too easy. You'd expect three kids from relatively unknown families would have trouble being thrust into the shinobi world, but… I dunno. I feel like it should be more of a challenge.”

They're on mostly good terms. Chie is strong. Riku is skilled. Issei is smart. They balance each other out and their dynamics have the potential to be really smooth. It's a little  _ too _ perfect for Mori’s tastes. 

Even with the changes he's made to the timeline, very little in Mori’s life has been  _ perfect.  _

“Do you  _ want  _ it to be a challenge?” Kenji asks. “After dealing with Iruka and Mizuki and me, I thought you said you'd had 'enough chaos for one-and-a-half lifetimes’.”

Mori snorts. “I stand by that statement.”

Kenji laughs. “So this is a gift for you, then. Congrats, you got assigned an easy, breezy genin team.”

“You’re so paying for this entire meal.”

“ _ You’re _ the one with the jounin’s salary.”

Mori rolls his eyes and ruffles Kenji’s hair. Kenji squawks and ducks out of his reach.

“I’m a  _ man _ now! You can’t do that to me!” Kenji protests.

Mori snickers at Kenji’s righteously offended expression and messes up his hair even more. The seventeen-year-old Chuunin attempts to push his older brother away, only for both of them to freeze as the waitress clears her throat. 

Kenji stiffens and kicks the legs of Mori’s chair. Mori’s chair scoots a good six inches away from the table and he has to grab the table to keep himself from tipping over.

“Hi, Emi-chan!” Kenji says, smiling the waitress and running his hands through his messed up hair. 

The waitress giggles, and Kenji shoots a glare at his brother. 

Mori rolls his eyes and scoots his chair back to a normal position. 

“Would you like a refill for your drink, Kenji-kun?” Emi asks, beaming at him. 

“Why, yes, please,” Kenji replies, moving his water glass closer to the waitress. She refills the glass. 

During the three seconds, the two of them don't break eye-contact. 

“Thanks, Emi-chan,” Kenji says with a wink as she finishes filling up his drink. 

Emi blushes. “No problem,” she says. “Anything for an esteemed customer.”

Before leaving, she nods at Mori respectfully. Then she flits away to another table. 

Mori chuckles. “So she's why we're eating here instead of the other place?”

“Shut up,” Kenji growls. “Emi-chan is nice, okay?”

“Do I have to give her the ‘big brother talk’?” Mori asks. 

Kenji groans and hides his face in his hands. “Please don't.”

Mori laughs at the expense of his younger brother. 

He'd never gotten to see Kenji grow up the first time around. In this world, Kenji is a seventeen-year-old Chuunin. He is everything that Mori never was -- outgoing and flirtatious, kind and funny and reassuring. He smiles the way he did at twelve years old: bright and hopeful.

They finish their meal, making light conversation the whole time. Mori subtly teases Kenji every time their waitress walks by; Kenji threatens to get Iruka and Mizuki to help him rig pranks in Mori’s apartment. It’s comfortable, familiar, and Mori has never been so glad that his little brother survived the Kyuubi attack.

“Well, that's that,” Mori says, looking at his empty plate. He pulls out a wallet. “I'll pay.”

Kenji beats him to it, slamming down his money onto the table and looking Mori in the eye. “We’re splitting.”

Mori lifts an eyebrow.

“I can't look like I'm mooching off my brother in front of Emi-chan,” Kenji says, his eyes far too serious for the situation.

Mori stifles a laugh, but going by the expression on Kenji’s face, he’s not very successful.

Kenji starts counting out the coins. Mori’s smirk grows as he watches the pile of money grow larger. 

“Rather large tip,” he comments. 

“Fitting for such lovely service.” Kenji’s reply is smooth and confident, even though his ears are turning a painful shade of red. 

Mori laughs. And when they leave the restaurant and Kenji parts ways with him, Mori walks back to his apartment.

Mori’s hand drifts to the seal on his chest in what has become a subconscious gesture over the years. Sometimes, in the dead of night and locked in a nightmare, he is bitter. Sometimes he sees the faces of the dead and has to fight to stay together. 

It's Kenji, though, that fills him with hope.

Maybe this is the calm before the storm -- maybe his team really is wild and rowdy and dysfunctional, maybe the Massacre is out of his control, and maybe there’s no way to stop the Kyuubi from breaking out a second time. But for now, Mori is still. At peace.

_ If I can save my brother, I can do anything, _ he thinks, and he enters his apartment with a smile on his face and a light in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact: Kenji is the hot sibling. If Mori is 6 on a good day, Kenji is a solid 9 twenty-four hours, seven days a week.  
> And another fact: That running exercise the kids do? That thing is the _worst_. I do that in sports sometimes and I hate every second of those.
> 
> (Mori claimed that his hobby was hiking, but what that actually means is that he finds peace in walking back to Konoha after a completed mission.)
> 
> Itachi is having a good time :D (evil laughter, followed by a regretful expression bc BABY ITACHI WHY)
> 
> (anyone spot the baby canon characters?? :D ok it's probably not them and probably some other kid in their clan bc why are they all hanging out at the same playground, but I can dream ok)
> 
> I keep tossing in little snippets of smol Naruto BUT HE HASN'T SHoWn UP and I just. HUHHh. I've got snippets of later scenes all planned out but the build up to get there is HArD.


	9. The Massacre, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All these students are going to be the death of Hayakawa Mori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter backwards because I got really excited for the last bit, but then I had no energy for the build up and everything else in the chapter, so I'm never going to do that again.
> 
> That's one half of the reason why this chapter is short.

A week passes. Team Four is doing well -- the three genin tackle the challenges Mori sets for them with a single-minded resolve that Mori envies. It's been awhile since his goals were so clear cut and simple. He misses the simplicity of his genin days, though he certainly doesn't miss the violence and chaos of the war.

He watches as the kids toss another round of shuriken at the target he'd set up. Today, they'd been practicing on accuracy. Shuriken, though sharper and more subtle than kunai, are a lot harder to control, so of course, the first thing Mori does is toss the kids into the deep end to see how well they fare.

Issei seems to have gotten the hang of the correct throwing technique fairly quickly, and can now consistently hit the target.

“Try these,” Mori says, handing the boy a set of broken shuriken.

Issei takes the set and frowns. He looks up. “You’re joking, right.”

“Nope,” Mori says. “Sometimes your weapons break and they’re all you have. Try it.”

Issei rolls his eyes and starts tossing the broken weapons. His first one misses the target by a few inches, and he scowls, narrowing his eyes.

Mori turns his attention to Chie. She’s getting used to it; she has a couple of cuts on her fingers from mishandling the shuriken, but she’s also been improving her accuracy. When Mori walks over, she beams at him.

“Check this out, Mori-sensei!” she says, and she takes two shuriken into her right hand.

Mori watches as she throws both of them at the same time. One hits the target just outside of the bull’s eye; the other not too far away. Mori grins and pats her shoulder.

“Not bad,” he says. “You’re doing great.”

Chie smiles, though her eyes flick over to Issei. Out of the corner of their vision, Issei tosses a shuriken with a point missing and sticks it close to the center of the target. The boy sneaks a glance over at Chie and smirks.

At the sight, Chie clenches her jaw and turns back to her weaponry.

Chie is naturally competitive, Mori’s learned -- she wants to be the best at everything they do, and she pushes herself to the limit to achieve that. Issei is competitive, too, but it’s a competition born out of spite and superiority more than anything else. He’ll take his spot at the top and lord it over Chie’s head just to see her squirm.

Maybe it’s a bit unhealthy, but they both respect the other’s limits and it’s great motivation for both of them, so Mori lets it go.

“Keep it up,” Mori cheers her on, but based on the steely resolve in her eyes, she doesn’t need the extra encouragement.

Then Mori turns to his third student.

It’s Riku who has trouble with the exercise; he misses as often as he hits the target and if he does throw it in the right direction, there’s no guarantee it will stick. Riku stares at his target with a frustrated expression and grimaces.

“Need help?”

Riku huffs in reply. Mori takes that as a yes.

He talks the boy through the technique, critiquing his posture and form until he has all the movements down. The practiced movement comes naturally to the boy, and he flows through the motions with ease. Mori’s not too surprised; Riku, apparently, has been training his body and practicing motions and his form since birth. He keeps his back straight and arms level as he moves through the throwing form.

It still doesn't help his aim.

Mori watches as Riku sends off a shuriken with picture-perfect form, only to have the weapon embed itself into the tree to the right of the target.

“Ah, sensei,” Riku whines, “I don't think I can do this!”

“Yes, you can,” Mori says, leaving no room for an argument in his voice. “You're almost there, Riku. You _can_ do this.”

As soon as Mori says that, Riku tosses a shuriken and instead hits an unlucky bird flying by the treeline. Chie, Riku, and Mori all wince as the animal hits the dirt. Issei rolls his eyes.

Mori places a hand on Riku’s shoulder and smiles encouragingly. “Just keep practicing, okay?”

The boy looks rather glum as he reaches for another weapon.

* * *

 

It's a rather frustrating training session for everyone involved. After playing around with projectile weapons for a couple of hours, Mori runs his genin through the kata for a more advanced version of the Academy form. Riku takes to the switch in gears with great joy, grateful for something he can actually do. The genin huff and puff their way through as Mori drills the new motions into their minds and muscles. By the time Mori’s finished showing them the kata, it's lunch time.

Chie scrambles off towards an oden stand while pulling out her wallet, and her male teammates follow her footsteps.

Mori sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

They're doing well, all things considered, but it's extremely mundane. Team Four has its fair share of weaknesses and problems but it's nothing dramatic. The way things are going, Mori only needs to guide them through until they're ready for the Chuunin Exams. It's easy. Too easy.

Mori scowls at the thought and makes his way out of the training grounds.

 _Maybe Kenji’s right,_ he thinks. _I am a little paranoid_.

He strolls down the streets and pats his pockets while looking for food.

“Mori-senpai!”

Mori whirls around, arms up in a defensive position, only to fall to his sides as a very, _very_ stressed-looking Umino Iruka jogs up to him.

“How's the Academy?” Mori asks, smiling at the younger man.

Iruka’s expression is halfway between angry and horrified, and Mori laughs at the sight.

“That bad, huh?”

“I'm not prepared for this,” Iruka mutters. “Those teacher classes do _not_ prepare anyone for that job, _k_ _ami.”_

“Let me get you some lunch,” Mori says, steering Iruka towards a food stand that sells curry.

He sits Iruka down on the stool and orders two bowls while Iruka places his head on the counter.

“So? How'd it go?”

“They're like three feet tall,” Iruka mumbles. “How can they make so much _noise?”_

Mori hides his laughter with a cough. Iruka doesn't seem to notice as he continues.

“One of them accidentally called me Haruka-sensei, which is apparently my name now. The chalk is too new and makes screeching noises when I write with it, so they don't pay attention to what I'm writing. I think I've grown twelve gray hairs. It has been _three_ hours. I’m not even a homeroom teacher yet.”

“Wow,” Mori says.

Iruka nods, like that single word is enough to portray the chaotic, naive, and unpredictable whirlwind that is a young human. It probably is, to be honest.

Their curry arrives. Mori digs in, hungry after training his genin brats. Iruka pokes at his rice with his chopsticks before thoughtfully chewing on a chunk of his food.

They're silent for a moment as they both eat. The food is good, filling. Mori runs through the bowl.

“Can I ask you for advice?” Iruka says suddenly.

Mori swallows a bite of food and turns to Iruka. “Sure.”

Iruka chews on the inside of his mouth. “One of my students today was … Uzumaki Naruto.”

Mori doesn't say anything as he gently sets his chopsticks down in his bowl and breathes.

“Oh.”

“I don't know what I expected,” Iruka says quietly. “I… I mean, my coworkers told me to be wary of him, but… he seems very normal?” Iruka makes a face. “I don't know, he _acts_ like a normal kid but I can't… I can't look at him without thinking…”

 _Of the Kyuubi,_ Mori finishes in his head.

“Sometimes I hate him,” Iruka says. “And then I hate myself for hating him. Mostly I just try and ignore him, but then he gets this lonely expression on his face and it almost makes it _worse.”_

Mori takes that in for a moment. He picks up another chunk of food and chews it thoughtfully. When he swallows, he turns back to Iruka.

“Do you remember when I started teaching Uchiha Itachi?” he asks.

Iruka blinks at the sudden change of subject, but he nods.

“I was terrified,” Mori says. “But you just have to keep going through with it.”

Iruka lowers his voice. “I don't think comparing the Kyuubi no Kitsune and the Uchiha clan heir is _quite_ the same.”

 _You don't know the half of it,_ Mori thinks. Being a teacher to a potential mass-murderer is _hard,_ and Mori knows that feeling better than Iruka might think.

Still, he can't tell Iruka to bullshit lessons because he's teaching more than one student at a time. That, and the fact that bullshitting lessons will get one fired, and he knows Iruka has wanted to become a sensei for a while now.

Mori thinks of Itachi, and then he thinks of the Yondaime.

_Protect my son._

Once upon a time, Mori _killed_ Uzumaki Naruto. It was what landed him here in the past in the first place. And in spite of the fact that he hates thinking about it, he remembers his subsequent conversation with the Kyuubi -- every hateful statement seared into his brain.

 _This child is still naive enough to_ love _this miserable hellhole._

Mori wonders what exactly the kid saw in a village that hated him. Was it because of little snatches of kindness? Was it because there was someone who did care about him? Or was it because it was the only thing he'd ever known?

Mori remembers seeing Uzumaki Naruto at the playground last week, when he was there with his genin team. He recalls the lonely longing on the boy’s face, and suddenly he feels a sharp stab of shame.

He knows in his head that Uzumaki isn't the demon, but he also remembers the fight that _killed_ him, remembers the demon that killed his family. He can’t fully forgive Naruto, not yet, at least. But if the Kyuubi told the truth, then Naruto has forgiven a village that had ostracized and despised him. Mori only wishes he had that kind of strength.

 _I'm not any better than the other villagers,_ he thinks. He thinks of a small, lonely child, and he thinks of the corrosive, malevolent being that is the Kyuubi, still unable to fully separate the two.

 _Ugh,_ Mori thinks. _This is hard._

In the end, all Mori can think is that he's grateful that he's not the one in Iruka’s place.

“This is easy for me to say, since I'm not the one teaching the brat,” Mori begins, “but I think that you have to treat him as a normal student.”

“He's not normal, though,” Iruka protests.

Mori thinks of his second Kyuubi attack, of Iruka’s bloodied body splayed out on the ground. Perhaps if Uzumaki cared a little more for the man, then maybe he wouldn’t end up being killed.

“Look, if that seal gets messed up, then the Kyuubi could break out and take apart the entire village,” Mori says. “You have to do more than just teach, you have to make sure that he won't blow up. Do what you signed up for. Pass on the Will of Fire and show him that Konoha is something worth protecting.”

Iruka falls silent. “That's a large responsibility,” he says quietly. “I don't think…”

“It'll be hard,” Mori says, recalling his first few days with Itachi. He remembers the awkwardness, the tense fear.

But then he remembers watching Itachi play at a playground, taking a nap in a tree. He remembers the stoic child who slowly learned to smile, _really_ smile, who genuinely enjoyed his training sessions with Mori.

“But you never know. He might grow on you.”

Iruka laughs and shakes his head at the thought.

* * *

 

Team Four meets up in front of the Hokage Tower after lunch, as usual. And as usual, Mori takes them in, chooses a long-ish D-rank to work on, and whisks his students off to wherever their mission is taking place.

Today he sits under a tree as the three of them get to work on repairing the damage at one of the training grounds. A spar between a few Chuunin got a bit out of hand yesterday, and the earth is cracked, with boulders balanced precariously around the clearing. There are fallen trees littered across the grounds, and it’s their job to break them down and get them out of the way.

After a quick discussion, they split up the work. Chie and Riku grab the hacksaws and work on cutting off large branches. Issei gathers all the branches in one spot.

Once they have a large enough bundle, they group it together and set it off to the side. Later, another team will come in and transport the logs and branches over to a lumber mill to be trimmed and cut down into usable pieces of wood.

They're all quiet as they run through the motions of the D-rank, silently doing their part and only speaking to give brief directions.

It's strange. Even Chie is oddly quiet as they move through the mission. She works quickly, but silently, only speaking to bark out orders and suggestions at her male teammates.

When Riku brings up another random fact and Chie fails to call him a nerd, both Issei and Riku fall into a confused silence.

Riku frowns. “Are you okay, Chie?” he asks as she saws away at a rather large branch with excessive fervor.

She turns to him and gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Yep!” she chirps, bright and chipper.

The saw gives, and the branch comes off. With a grunt, she picks it up and hands it over to Issei to bring to the wood pile.

Issei scowls at her, but it's a scowl touched with a hint of worry and confusion. Chie is oblivious, taking her saw in hand and hacking away at another branch.

Issei and Riku exchange confused glances.

Mori watches his students with a frown. He can't quite find the reason for Chie’s odd silence. He watches her carefully, searching for clues, but as soon as she notices him looking, she covers her strain up with a determined expression and a bright smile.

Mori frowns, but lets it slide for now. He wants to give his team the chance to work it out themselves, first. During this week, they’ve gotten along fairly well, so he’s not too concerned.

When they wrap up the D-rank, Mori dismisses his team after a quick cool down stretch. They walk off and head out in separate directions. Chie scrambles away to a location unknown, and Mori wonders if he should check on her.

“Bye, sensei!” Riku calls out as he leaves the Twelfth Training Ground. Issei grunts.

Mori lifts his hand up in a wave as his students leave. Was training genin supposed to be this misleading and confusing?

 _Ryuu-sensei,_ he thinks, _I am sorry for every little problem we had as your genin team._

* * *

 

Mori sips at his ramen quietly, still thinking about his genin. Should he do more teamwork exercises? More D-ranks? Fewer D-ranks? Focus on their individual skills?

He’d never thought about these kinds of technicalities before. With Itachi, he’d only been able to wing it because he had one student to worry about. Iruka was never his own student, and Kenji was his brother; he’d never had to come up with training routines and deal with _groups_ of children before.

It’s more than just watching their individual skills -- it’s watching their interactions, their dynamics, and making sure that they become the best team they can be. It’s really difficult to make sure they grow both as individuals and as a group.

Still, it’s only been a week. Mori just hopes that it gets better with time.

Beside him, Izo eats up his own ramen. In a silent companionship, they sit and eat, both lost in thoughts.

“Izo,” Mori wonders aloud, breaking the quiet. “You ever thought of having a genin team of your own?”

Izo snorts. “Hell no. Can you really see me dealing with a bunch of brats all day long?”

Mori runs through the simulation in his head.

“No,” he concedes, grimacing at the idea of Izo as a jounin instructor. “Definitely not.”

“I’m more of a follower type, anyway,” Izo say. “Leading is too much of a drag. I don’t want to deal with the responsibility and paperwork.”

“Too much effort for you,” Mori mutters, thinking of his lethargic friend. “Even your pranks in the Academy were incredibly lazy.”

“Why do it yourself when there’s a bunch of other people to do it for you?” Izo says with a smirk.

“Like that one time in Kiri and you made the enemy do our job?” Mori recalls, a smile crossing his face.

“Huh?”

Mori turns and looks at him. “You know, you dodged an attack and had them blow up the…uh...” He trails off.

Izo’s eyes flick over to him, a question in his gaze. Mori mentally curses.

“Never mind,” Mori says, coolly, casually. “That was with someone else.”

 _Haven’t done that in a while,_ Mori grumbles to himself. Every once in awhile, he slips up and references his ‘other timeline’. It doesn’t happen often enough for people to connect the dots, but it does happen.

As time passes, as his friends grow into their older, familiar selves, sometimes he can close his eyes and imagine that the Kyuubi never sent him back in the first place. He’d gotten used to his time-travel -- it was either live with it or drive himself insane -- but thinking of his old, _original_ future always makes him a little nostalgic and sad.

He’s glad that Aya and his family are alive, and he’s glad that he’s a lot closer with Izo this time around, but there are moments that haven’t happened, memories that haven’t been made and likely will never come to be. At times like these, he’s reminded that he’s lived through an extra twelve years.

His hand drifts up to his chest and he sighs.

“Confusing me with other people?” Izo murmurs, bumping his shoulder into Mori’s. “I’m offended.”

“Oh?” Mori asks, covering up his momentary melancholy with an amused grin. He elbows Izo back. “It’s not hard; there’s nothing really remarkable about you. I could replace you with any other Nara and nothing would change.”

“I could say the same for _you,_ ” Izo snipes back in good humor. “So what’s this about? Having trouble with your genin team?”

“Maybe,” Mori admits. “I don’t know. Chie was a little quiet today. Could be nothing.”

“Just keep an eye on them,” Izo suggests. “Can’t be too hard.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Mori says.

“Mmm,” Izo hums, and he sips his water. He sets his glass down gently.

Mori finishes off the rest of his ramen, feeling a little more confident about the situation with his team. He digs out a few coins and slides them across the counter. Teuchi accepts them with a smile.

“Well, see you around,” Mori says, nodding to Izo. He turns to leave.

“Wait,” Izo says, reaching out and catching Mori by the wrist.

“Hm?”

“I’ll be gone for the next month or so,” Izo says. “So don’t think that I’ve died in my sleep or anything if you don’t see me.”

“Mission?” Mori asks.

“Yeah,” Izo says. “It’s pretty straightforward, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Good luck,” Mori says, giving Izo an encouraging smile. “Stay safe, okay?”

Izo grins back. “You too, Mori. Whip those kids into shape.”

“I’ll do my best,” Mori promises.

Izo drops Mori’s arm and nods as Mori slips out of the ramen stand. As Mori walks home, he’s quiet, letting his eyes dart around and flicker from scene to scene as he makes his way to his apartment.

He sees a group of kids run by, and he groans.

 _Children are the last thing I want to think of right now,_ Mori grumbles to himself as he enters his apartment building. He makes his way up to his apartment, unlocks the door, and shuts it behind him with a sigh.

Then he plops down onto his couch and closes his eyes, eager for a rest after a long and confusing day.

* * *

 

It's a surprise when Mori hears a knock on his apartment door, because he doesn't get visitors, and he especially doesn't get _unannounced_ visitors. Suddenly on guard, he starts running through the list of people who might possibly visit him.

He’d just spoken to Izo, so that’s out. Unless Mori forgot his wallet or something, which he didn’t -- he pats his pocket just to be sure.

Aya. She would break in through the window, and even if she didn’t, she would _never_ give him the courtesy of a warning knock. Aya greets her teammates with the strength and unpredictability of a tornado; knocking isn’t in her list of skills.

Yuko. Dead tired after dealing with her genin team and never drops by unannounced. The Hyuuga clan had drilled the best of manners into every member of their clan, and Yuko followed etiquette like she followed the shinobi rules. A very unlikely possibility.

The Hokage. A busy man who would only visit him under the direst of circumstances. It's more likely that Mori would receive a summons, in which case, the Hokage’s messengers would knock on his windows.

None of his genin know where he lives. Mori slips kunai into his hand and walks to the door, stretching out his chakra.

When he senses who’s on the other side, he stiffens and puts away his weapon before opening the door.

“Itachi?” he asks, confused.

“Mori-sensei,” Itachi says. His voice is quiet, but stiff, like he’s forcing it to stay even. He meets Mori’s eyes, the dark bags on his face more prominent that Mori’s ever seen. Mori has seen Itachi like this before -- after missions, when Sasuke gets injured in some way -- but then Itachi’s hands fidget. _Fidget._

And suddenly Mori realizes just how stressed and worried his former student is.

“... I need to talk. Please.”

Mori wordlessly steps aside and gestures for Itachi to come in. The ten-year-old boy slides into his apartment without a sound and awkwardly stands in his living room. Mori glances at his posture. It's straight and still, unnaturally so. The boy walks over to Mori’s windows, and Mori can feel him reaching out, searching for nearby chakra signatures.

Whatever Itachi wants to talk about, he wants it to be kept quiet.

Responding to Itachi’s wishes, Mori turns on the AC and runs his half-filled dishwasher, hoping that the background noise will distort their words to anyone listening in. Itachi nods gratefully.

“You can sit, Itachi-kun,” Mori says.

Itachi nods stiffly and tentatively takes a spot on the couch. His eyes flick around the room before settling their dark gaze on the coffee table.

Mori doesn't say anything, only takes a seat next to Itachi on the couch. He keeps his posture loose and relaxed, hoping that it will put the boy at ease. And he waits.

Is it Sasuke? Is it his clan?

Itachi may seek out Mori from time to time, but he very rarely drops details about his situation at home. For the most part, Mori lets it slide, unwilling to push the boy too far. Right now, though, he wonders if he should have pushed harder.

Itachi bites his lip, which is a sign that he's _very_ affected by whatever it is that's bothering him. The boy only lets the most subtle of expressions cross his face, but for him to betray his apprehension so openly…

Mori steels himself for the news he's about to receive, and he prays that Itachi isn't on the verge of snapping.

Itachi takes a deep breath. “My father enlisted me into ANBU,” he says quietly.

 _I want to drop kick your father into a volcano,_ Mori thinks.

Sweet _Kami,_ does Fugaku know what happens in ANBU? Suicide mission after suicide mission? The assassinations, the lies, the secrecy?

Mori spent two years in ANBU, and he doesn't miss it. It's a high-pressure job. You can't discuss missions with your friends. You can't even tell your friends that you're a _part_ of the elite organization. You are a shadow being tossed at every major threat, public or private, and you can never have the confidence that you will live to see the next day.

And Itachi is _ten._

If Fugaku forced Itachi to join the ANBU at so young an age, it’s no wonder the boy snapped. Mori runs scenarios through his mind, trying to come up with a way to get Itachi out of this situation before --

“He enlisted me into ANBU,” Itachi repeats, “so that I can spy on Konoha.”

Mori's train of thought crashes into a brick wall and ignites in a fiery inferno. He turns to look at Itachi, who keeps his head down -- shame and fear betrayed by the shaking of his hands, the tension in his shoulders.

Mori replays the words in his head as he throws out the burning train in his mind to make room for this new information. It takes another minute for the words to truly  _register_.

And the only thing Mori can say is, "Wait,  _what?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HOHOHOHOO HOHOHOHOOOOOH OH MANNNN. OHHH BOY.  
> RIP MORI, YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE THE RIDE OF A LIFETIME IN THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS.
> 
> Also: CRAP MAN I MESSED UP ITACHI'S TIMELINE HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE ELEVEN RIGHT NOW WHOOPS. He has a June birthday but right now in this story it's early April-ish and his birthday isn't for another two months. Let's just say this is fanfiction and I took the creative freedom to make him a little younger in order for him to come across as more sympathetic and tragic? YEAH, IT WAS INTENTIONAL  
> Another note: in the anime Iruka didn't become Naruto's homeroom teacher until around the time of the Massacre apparently but I'm just going to throw that out the window and speed things up a bit.
> 
> At long last, I have introduced/foreshadowed all the things that I want to address in this arc. (Hopefully I will be able to hit them all without forgetting one.)
> 
> (The second half of the reason why this chapter is short is because I decided to cut at a cliffhanger instead of putting in the entire conversation.)
> 
> Let the rest of the arc begin!


	10. The Massacre, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itachi isn't having a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow update, sorry! I was hoping to finish this chapter before I went camping with my family, but it didn't work out. But now that I'm back to having signal, the internet, and access to my laptop, it's all good :D
> 
> Recap:   
> _“He enlisted me into ANBU,” Itachi repeats, “so that I can spy on Konoha.”_
> 
> _Mori's train of thought crashes into a brick wall and ignites in a fiery inferno. He turns to look at Itachi, who keeps his head down -- shame and fear betrayed by the shaking of his hands, the tension in his shoulders._
> 
> _Mori replays the words in his head as he throws out the burning train in his mind to make room for this new information. It takes another minute for the words to truly register._
> 
> _And the only thing Mori can say is, "Wait, what?"_

Itachi keeps his eyes low, showing far more emotion than Mori even thought was possible. “My clan is dissatisfied with their position in Konoha,” Itachi says quietly.

_ What the actual fuck? _

“I don't want to fight,” Itachi says, voice wavering. “But I don't want a war.”

_ I don't want a war.  _

The new information sends Mori reeling. He leans forward, placing his hands on his chin, and frowns. 

_ Dissatisfied with their position… _

_ Spy on Konoha… _

The new information forces him to rearrange _everything_ he’d thought he’d known about the massacre. The Uchiha aren't as loyal as assumed. Itachi doesn't want a war. Itachi is going against his clan to get this information to Mori.

Mori grimaces as he takes in the new pieces, sliding them into place along with everything else in his brain. His mind chases the implications all the way to their treacherous conclusion.

_ Oh, shit.  _

Mori feels his mouth dry and his stomach flip. If Itachi is implying what he thinks he's implying, then the Uchiha Massacre takes on a whole new level of meaning that Mori _ really _ doesn't like. 

“Your clan,” Mori says, feeling all his concern and worry for Itachi fall away into a general sense of dread. “... Do you think they'll follow through?” 

Itachi looks up and meets Mori’s eyes. 

_ Fuck, _ Mori thinks. Because if this was true, and he didn't think Itachi was lying...

Then Clan-Killer S-ranked missing-nin Itachi killed his family, not because he snapped, but because they were planning some sort of treason against Konoha. 

Which means that… Itachi became a  _ missing-nin _ to keep Konoha safe. To keep his brother safe. 

Had word gotten out that the Uchiha clan was planning to  _ defect… _

“We have time,” Itachi says quietly. “It's not a full plan yet. But if this continues…”

“Then we have a problem on our hands,” Mori finishes.

An understatement, to say the least. The Uchiha comprise the majority of the police force and a rather significant portion of the shinobi of the village. With that much power… it’s definitely possible that in a fight between the Uchiha and Konoha, the Uchiha might be the ones winning. At the very least, Konoha would be extremely weakened. And though it’s peacetime, there are those that would _definitely_ take advantage of this type of opportunity.

His mind is already racing for scenarios, rearranging what he knows and what he doesn't. He feels a headache settle down on him. Of all the bombs he was preparing for Itachi to drop, it definitely wasn't  _this._

Before him, Itachi sits unnaturally still. His face could be carved out of stone with how motionless it is, but when Mori checks, he can see the panic and emotion welling up in Itachi’s eyes. 

“I'm sorry for burdening you with this,” Itachi says, voice trembling, “but I didn't know who else to go to…”

The normally stoic voice cracks. 

Mori places a gentle hand on Itachi’s shoulder. The boy stiffens at the touch before relaxing into it. 

“Itachi… I'm glad you trusted me with this,” Mori says, staring Itachi in the eye, and hoping that he can tell just how much he means it. “You did the right thing. And I swear I'll do  _ everything _ in my power to fix this.”

Itachi nods. His shoulders tremble under Mori’s grip, and suddenly Mori wonders when was the last time Itachi’s been hugged.

_Not now,_ he thinks, throwing aside the shock and confusion and worry running through his mind. He takes a deep breath.  _Identify the problem. Analyze the situation. Choose a course of action_.

“Have you told the Hokage yet?” Mori asks. This definitely isn't a situation they could handly on their own.

“No,” Itachi says, looking away shamefully. “I was going to but… I wanted to tell you first.”

“That's alright,” Mori reassures him. “Do you want to tell him right now?”

Itachi is still for a moment. Then, after a long pause, he nods his assent. 

“Okay,” Mori says, checking the time. 

His alarm clock reads ‘6:02’. The sun has already set, and there are stars out in the sky.

Mori gets up, hiding any of his apprehension and fear for Itachi’s sake. He turns off his AC but lets the dishwasher continue. Itachi is on his feet, standing slightly behind Mori and walking with silent steps. 

During the walk to the Hokage’s Tower, Mori takes extra care to steer clear of the Uchiha Police Force patrols.

* * *

 

The Sandaime remains silent as Itachi debriefs them on the full situation.

How the clan was moved into a separate section of Konoha. Isolation from the village. The rumors that it was an Uchiha who summoned the Kyuubi into Konoha. Little things that, over the years, festered under the scrutinizing eye of a ‘Senju-influenced government’, until even the smallest slight was enough to stoke the flames of a simmering fury.

The Sandaime frowns as he listens, holding his pipe but not smoking it. Itachi holds his full attention from beginning to the end, where Itachi finishes with his enrollment into ANBU to play spy.

“I see,” he says, when Itachi falls silent.

Mori waits patiently for the Sandaime’s decision. He glances over at Itachi, who seems both more relieved and more stressed to have gotten this off his chest.

“Itachi,” the Sandaime says, and the boy snaps to attention. “Thank you for coming to me with this. You are dismissed. I will call you back with further instructions.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Itachi says. He bows and turns to leave the room. Mori starts to get to his feet, to follow the young boy.

“Hayakawa,” the Hokage says, “Sit.”

Mori sits.

Itachi slips out of the Hokage’s office; the door closes softly behind him. Mori curls his hands into fists.

Itachi’s in an incredibly precarious and vulnerable position right now. He wants more than anything to just erase all the problems, but he doesn’t even know where to begin.

“I take it this was news to you,” the Hokage says.

“Yes,” Mori says. “It’s -- new.”

“You never heard anything about this?”

“No,” Mori admits, mind still reeling. “We were told that Itachi had snapped… the idea of a coup never crossed anyone’s minds.”

A  _ coup. _ Itachi, forced to choose between his clan and the village, and making his decision in Konoha’s favor. Murdering the whole clan to hide the truth and prevent unrest, prevent the violence and bloodshed that comes with rebellion and treason.

By painting his hands red, Itachi quite possibly stopped the Fourth Shinobi World War. But even knowing that, Mori still can't fully comprehend this new development. 

That level of loyalty and devotion  _ terrifies _ Mori.

The Sandaime closes his eyes and puffs on his pipe. The smoke curls through the air, fading into the light.

“...You said the original date of the massacre was three years from now,” The Sandaime says.

“Yes.”

“There’s still time, then. This is still political. No blood has to be shed.”

“Yes,” Mori says, latching onto the hope. “We can undo the policies, re-integrate the Uchiha --”

“Not quite,” the Sandaime laments. “I opposed all of those policies. Those laws have the full support of the entire Council. Undoing them is impossible.”

“Impossible?” Mori asked. “With all due respect, Hokage-sama, the lives of an entire  _ clan _ are on the line --”

“If Itachi tells the truth, then the lives of  _ traitors _ are on the line,” the Sandaime says darkly. “I do not like it either, Hayakawa-san, but I cannot simply undo the work of loyal Konoha ninja for a clan whose loyalty I’m not entirely certain of.”

“There has to be a way to reconnect with the Uchiha,” Mori says quietly. "I know the idea of pandering to a clan is... well, stupid, but the Uchiha are too large and powerful to simply let go."

“I will try,” the Sandaime says quietly. “Though I’m afraid any change will have to run deeper than policy. Since the Kyuubi attack, relations with the Uchiha have been tense.”

“Those rumors about the Kyuubi,” Mori says, thinking of what Itachi brought up and the whispers he’d heard around the village. “... How can you  _ undo _ six years of distrust and unrest?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the image of the Kyuubi seal flashes through his mind.

He shoves that thought out of the window and shakes his head. 

“Keep an eye on Itachi, when you can,” the Sandaime says. “I trust the people on his squad; you won't have to worry about him when he's on missions.”

Mori’s face falls. “You're not going to take him out of ANBU?”

“Taking him out may be perceived as another act against the Uchiha,” the Sandaime says, “and if he reports directly to me, then perhaps the Uchiha’s spy can go both ways.”

_ That's not any better off than he was before, _ Mori thinks. If anything, that's  _ worse,  _ forcing a ten-year-old boy to spy on his own clan, his own family.

What's even worse, though, is that he  _ knows  _ Itachi can do it. He knows that Itachi can gather information on the Uchiha, knows that he can fill in the blanks and subtleties in their plans, knows that Itachi can blend in and play his part. He knows that, because he's the one that  _ taught  _ the boy. 

Mori bites down a bitter protest. In his anxiety, in his fear, he'd taught Itachi how to be a spy. He’d never thought the kid would actually have to  _ use _ it. 

He has no excuse to argue against his Hokage, no reason to pull Itachi out of his position. He brought this on himself. 

“I need to discuss this,” the Hokage says. 

Mori frowns. “With the  _ Council?”  _ As in, the same Council that alienated the Uchiha in the first place?

“Is that wise?”

“It will be fine,” the Sandaime says, and Mori can recognize the dismissal coming on. “I will handle the Uchiha. You have a team to focus on.”

_ Knowing what I know, how can I focus on anything else? _ Mori wonders.

“If you obtain new information, come to me,” the Sandaime orders. “You are dismissed.”

Mori bows low, keeping his face carefully blank. When he turns to leave the Hokage’s office, he scowls.

* * *

 

Mori keeps his head down and his hands in his pockets as he makes his way back to his apartment. His mind races, trying to think of ways to help Itachi, to prevent the Massacre. 

The Uchiha clan is planning a goddamn rebellion, and his student is caught in the middle. Mori wishes he could just order Itachi to take a nap until this whole thing is over, but  _ no, _ they have to put a ten-year-old into  _ ANBU _ . He loves Konoha with his whole heart -- he’s  _ died _ for this village -- but at the same time, he kind of wishes it weren’t a ninja village.

_ A shinobi must always put the mission first, _ and right now the mission is to keep Konoha safe, not keep his former student alive and relatively healthy.

_ Fuck the Kyuubi,  _ he thinks. He storms down the streets, a bitter scowl on his lips. Wasn't this whole time traveling thing hard enough?

He's so focused on pitying himself and being angry at this whole situation that he doesn't notice the rock in his path until he hits his toe on it and falls forward, slamming into an unlucky passerby. 

“Whoa, are you okay, Mori?” the person says, and Mori looks up at the familiar voice. 

Izo frowns at him, his eyebrows scrunched up in worry. 

“Er, don't you have a mission?” Mori asks. 

There's a large pack slung over Izo’s back and he's dressed loosely and practically. Clearly he's getting ready to leave the village. 

“Yeah, but I don't have to leave for another thirty minutes,” Izo says. “I’m just heading to the gates. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Mori says. 

“Bullshit,” Izo replies. “You look like you found dog crap in your fridge. Seriously, dude, what's wrong?”

The Hokage hadn't discussed secrecy or clearance levels with him, but Mori is fairly certain that he can't just say that ‘the Uchiha want to overthrow the government and my ex-student is going to be caught in the middle’ so he just sighs.

“Is it your students, still?” Izo asks, and Mori remembers their conversation from earlier. 

Kami, was that only three hours ago? Mori feels like he's aged another twelve years. 

“Yeah,” Mori says. It's technically not a lie. 

Izo laughs, amused and unconcerned. Part of Mori wants to knee him in the balls for being so casual about  _ impending civil war in Konoha, _ but most of him ends up relaxing at the sound, releasing the tension.

“Genin team not all it’s cracked up to be?”

“Ugh,” is all Mori says in response, which makes Izo laugh even harder.

“Listen, Mori,” Izo says, a grin on his lips. “I’ll get you some better advice in a month, but for now: just keep an eye on them, okay? Pay attention to them, have them bond. You’re good with kids, you’d know what to do better than I can.”

_ Have them bond, _ Mori repeats in his head.  _ Well, there’s an idea. _

“Thanks, Izo,” Mori says, kind of sheepishly. “Sorry for being so negative.”

Izo slaps him on the back. “I’ll see you in a month.”

“Stay safe,” Mori says.

Izo only shoots him another grin before jogging off. 

_ Have them bond. _ Mori walks back to his apartment, wondering how often Itachi will be in the village.

* * *

 

_ Two days later: _

 

“So this is Itachi,” Mori says, gesturing at the young boy with the blank gaze.

Issei narrows his eyes and frowns at Itachi. Itachi frowns back.

Mori grins at his genin team as they study the younger boy in front of him. Issei is clearly suspicious -- but then again, he’s suspicious of everything. Chie tilts her head and looks back and forth between Mori and Itachi with narrowed eyes, trying to find the connection.

“Oh, is he your cousin or something?” Riku asks, trying for a friendly smile and kneeling down to make eye contact with the boy. “It’s nice to meet you, Itachi-kun, I’m Riku.”

“I outrank you,” Itachi says, staring back at Riku with a cold, dead-eyed gaze. Riku takes a shaky step back and frowns at the boy, disturbed.

Mori squeezes Itachi’s shoulder in warning. Itachi flicks his eyes up only for a second, but the annoyed expression in them makes Mori want to laugh. 

“You’re kidding, right,” Chie deadpans, studying Itachi with a suspicious gaze. “You’re like, three.”

“I’m  _ ten,” _ Itachi intones, “and I’m a chuunin.”

Issei gives Mori a disbelieving gaze.  _ Is this kid for real? _

“Itachi was my first student,” Mori says, deciding to leave out the fact that he was only allowed to teach the kid for two weeks. “He’s here to help me out with teaching today.  _ Right?” _

“Yes,” Itachi says. He has a long-suffering expression on his face that tells Mori’s genin team that he would rather be anywhere else.

Not that they’re any better; none of them look particularly excited to be taught by a boy two years younger than them.

_ Have them bond. _

If there’s nothing he can do directly against the Uchiha uprising, the least he could do is keep Itachi’s mind off of it when he’s off-duty. It’s incredibly stressful to know that one wrong move can set off the Fourth Shinobi World War -- far too much stress on a young boy.

Mori won’t be able to do this very often: for one, Itachi will be gone on ANBU missions, and then there’s also the fact that there are three Uchiha hidden in the clearing just waiting for him to mess up so that Fugaku can kick his ass. But he’ll do what he can until he finds a more effective way to protect his student.

“So… what are we learning today, Mori-sensei?” Chie asks.

“You’ll see,” Mori says. “Warm up, first.”

Grumbling, the three genin set off on their routine warm ups. They jog around the grounds, all of them occasionally looking back and stealing curious glances of Uchiha Itachi. Itachi, meanwhile, turns to Mori and stares at him with a betrayed expression.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mori says, suppressing a laugh.

“You said you were going to teach me something new today on my day off,” Itachi pouts.

“First of all, I’m not your official sensei anymore -- I’m  _ their _ sensei,” Mori says, nodding to the three children running around Training Ground Twelve. “I can’t just ditch them to teach a former student who doesn’t even need the tutelage anyway.”

Itachi stares blankly.

“Also, today I’m teaching you how to teach,” Mori says.

Itachi waits.

“First rule about being a teacher is making your students respect you,” Mori says. “Even if you get nothing else out of today, that’ll be a useful skill for you to have.”

Itachi nods, resigned.

Mori wonders how he’s holding up in ANBU. A lot of the elite ninja tend to base their opinions of ninja on their skill and not on their age, but having a  _ literal child _ in ANBU is kind of pushing it. He needs power and influence -- not just in his ANBU squad, but in his clan as well. Itachi needs to know how to get people to follow him, to sway his clan into restoring their loyalty to Konoha.

“You’re going to help them polish up their aim,” Mori says. “And afterwards, we’ll teach them tree-walking, okay?”

“Okay.”

The genin wrap up with their warm ups. Mori points to the targets, and Issei and Chie make their way over. Riku follows his teammates with a groan.

Mori hands Issei an old set of broken, worn-down shuriken. Issei snatches them with a scowl and glares at the target in front of him.

Chie cuts herself on the edge of her shuriken. Mori nudges Itachi forward, who stiffly makes his way closer to the genin. 

“Do you need help?” he asks. 

The words come out stiff and emotionless. Mori sighs. 

“Er, no thanks, um, Itachi…” Chie trails off and frowns, unsure of which honorific to use for the boy. She shakes her head and powers through the rest of her statement. “I'm fine, it's just a small cut.”

Itachi nods. 

Issei has already started the exercise, performing satisfactory throws and making progress with his aim. Itachi looks dubiously at Chie’s throwing before he turns to look at Riku. 

Riku glares at the weapon in his hand, as though willing it to fly straight. He looks up, takes a deep breath, and throws. 

The shuriken embeds itself into a tree branch three feet above the target. Riku groans in frustration and pulls out another weapon.

“Do you need help?” Itachi asks, with slightly more intonation than when he asked Chie.

Riku looks at Itachi dubiously before glancing back at Mori. Mori waves his hand in a ‘go-ahead’ gesture.

“Yes,” Riku grits out, but he still looks kind of skeptical at the idea of receiving instruction from Itachi.

Mori just leans forward slightly, curious to see what flaws Itachi could pick up when Mori’s done everything he could with Riku’s form.

Itachi picks up a shuriken. “You have to flick your wrist, and  _ then  _ release it.”

Without warning, his arm swings forward. The weapon flies through the air before embedding itself into the center of the target, in so deep that only half of it is left visible. Chie and Issei pause in their practice to stare incredulously at the throw, and Riku’s eyes widen.

“Oh,” Riku says. Itachi looks up at him expectantly, and Riku flushes in embarrassment. He fingers another shuriken and frowns in concentration as he holds it between his fingers.

And he throws.

Mori sees it now, the release that Itachi had mentioned. Riku lets go too soon, which is what causes his aim to go wide. It's subtle, just  _ slightly _ off timing, which is why Mori hadn't caught it before, but even a tiny tilt can drastically affect a projectile.

The boy makes another god-awful throw -- it skims the top of the target before being lost to the forest. Riku groans again as he looks down at the rapidly dwindling pile of shuriken next to him. 

Mori resists the urge to groan himself. He'd been so focused on perfecting Riku’s form that he'd forgotten about the  _ throwing  _ aspect of this whole exercise. Itachi had seen one throw and spotted the problem in an instant. 

Itachi turns to look at Mori. There's a glint in the boy's eyes --  _ you know what he did wrong, tell him -- _ but Mori only shrugs, curious to see how Itachi will handle it. 

“Do you know what you're doing wrong?” Itachi asks. 

Riku shrugs. 

Itachi turns back helplessly towards Mori, an exasperated look in his eye. Itachi is a genius, a prodigy. He can instinctively grasp both the practical and the theoretical; to him, it's impossible  _ not  _ to. He doesn't comprehend Riku’s confusion. There's a reason why geniuses rarely take on students, and even then, their students are those with natural brilliance themselves. 

Mori sighs and moves in to take over. 

“Riku,” he says, taking a position slightly behind the genin. “How does your family’s taijutsu work?”

Riku blinks at the sudden change of subject.

“Er, redirection,” Riku recited. “We force our opponents’ attacks to move where we want them to go.”

“Right,” Mori praises him, remembering the short spar against the kid. “You have to time it right, though. Too soon, and they’ll hit you. Too late, and --”

“And they’ll hit you, I already  _ know  _ that, sensei,” Riku whines.

Itachi frowns, unsure of where Mori is going with the change in subject. He watches as Mori bends over to pick up a rock. 

Riku frowns. Out of the corner of his eye, Mori spots Chie and Issei pausing in their own practice to watch him.

“What’s the rock forrr _ aaAAH!” _

Riku’s arms move on their own, palming the rock midair and changing its trajectory towards the target in front of him. It sails through the air before hitting the bottom of the target and dropping harmlessly to the floor. He whips his head around to stare at his teacher, who shrugs sheepishly.

Issei’s eyes widen in realization.

“Whoa, sensei,” Chie says, a little horrified. “What was  _ that _ for?”

“It hit the target,” Issei speaks up. “The rock hit the target.”

Riku turns to look at the target, eyes narrowed and frowning in thought.

“It’s like redirection,” he says, understanding. “I have to time it right!”

He picks up another shuriken and throws it without any hesitation. His aim still sucks, but it’s visibly better -- it actually hits the target, though it doesn’t stick. His next throw manages to land on the outer ring of the target.

A beaming Riku turns to his teacher. “Thanks, sensei!”

Mori gives him a thumbs up and an encouraging smile gesture. Issei looks at Riku’s target once more before returning to his own practice.

Chie looks thoughtful as she turns her attention away.

Itachi draws up next to Mori. He’s still frowning at Riku, and he looks up at Mori with a confused expression. “How did you know that would work?”

“Second rule of teaching is to understand your student,” Mori says.

“Understanding,” Itachi repeats.

“Teaching is a type of relationship,” Mori says. “Respect. Awareness. If you have to think of it in a different way, it’s basically presenting the facts in a way that you know will relate to your student.”

“Like comparing the act of throwing a shuriken to taijutsu,” Itachi muses. He turns and Itachi meets Mori’s eyes. “Does  _ everything  _ come back to gathering information?”

“For me, at least,” Mori says. “Some people instinctively understand others,” he says, thinking of Aya’s blunt charisma and likeable atmosphere. “For me, though, it’s helpful to gather information before making a move.”

Itachi falls silent at that, thinking over Mori’s words. Mori wonders what exactly is running through the boy’s mind.

“Well,” Mori says, after a few more minutes of silence. 

Since he'd started them on shuriken, Issei and Chie have polished up their aim quite nicely. Riku's no longer a hopeless case; all he needs is more practice, which he can do on how own time. Mori glances over to the edge of the forest. Itachi follows his gaze.

“Tree walking?” Mori suggests.

Itachi sighs as Mori calls out to the genin, redirecting their attention to the trees.

* * *

 

“Will Itachi be returning to help out again?” Issei asks.

It’s late in the afternoon, now. Team Four is standing in Training Ground Twelve, ready to be dismissed for the day.

After their chakra control exercise, which went fairly well -- all the kids were at around the level he’d expected them to be -- Itachi had flitted away. Mori had his team break for lunch, after which they did a quick D-rank involving digging holes and replanting the trees in a training ground not too far from their own.

The question that Issei had asked was on everyone’s minds, though.

Issei had seen Itachi demonstrate both the shuriken and the tree walking exercise, which firmly erased any doubts he'd had. Despite his young age, Itachi was  _ skilled, _ and that’s the only thing that matters to Issei.

The kid, for all his smug, tactless arrogance, respected Itachi. He didn’t hesitate when asking the boy for help, and when Itachi said something, he listened. Itachi didn’t mind him, either: Issei was smart enough to understand what the prodigy was saying, and it didn’t take many analogies or ‘dumbing down’ for Itachi to get through to him.

Mori’s glad that Itachi connected with at least one of his students; he knew that Itachi wasn’t fond of them at first. Bonding was the whole reason he suggested it in the first place -- god knows that Itachi needs more friends.

Riku was thankful for Itachi’s help, but at the same time, Itachi wasn’t quite helpful enough. More often than not, Riku didn’t understand what he was saying, and Itachi didn’t really care enough to try and explain it more than once.

Mori’s eyes flicker over to his third student, and he frowns.

Chie didn’t seem to want Itachi’s help at  _ all. _ She was polite about it, but was adamant in her refusal to accept his help. On the one hand, she was heavily determined to do everything on her own, but on the other… Mori wasn’t sure what the source of  _ that _ desire was.

“He might help out from time to time,” Mori says, returning to the question. “But not often. He’s a chuunin, he’s busy.”

_ More like an ANBU, _ he thinks bitterly. Mori hasn’t forgiven the Hokage for that stupid decision yet.

“Chuunin,” Chie murmurs, a fire in her eyes. 

“Okay,” Riku says with a nonchalant shrug. “Was he really your former student?”

“Yeah,” Mori answers. “My first student, actually.”

“I thought you failed all your previous teams,” Issei says, frowning.

“I did,” Mori says. “I taught him solo.”

“You can  _ do _ that?” Chie asks. “That’s so cool!”

“It’s uncommon,” Mori says in reply. “Most ninja work in teams anyway, so it’s common practice to train them as one.”

“Why was Itachi on a team by himself?” Riku asks, curious.

Mori looks off in the direction of the Uchiha compound. He thinks of Fugaku, and he thinks of the Massacre, which, in one evening, had become far more complicated than he'd ever thought it would. “...Special circumstances.”

It still irks him that the Hokage had ordered him to  _ignore_ the impending doom hanging over their heads. Mori's more than involved. The Massacre never quite leaves the back of his mind, and it's been distracting him this whole time when he should be training his team. His fingers twitch, restless. He wants to do something about it, even if the Sandaime disagrees.

Chie grins, drawing Mori back to reality. “Itachi’s cool, just like you, sensei!” she says, her voice slightly rushed. She glances up at the darkening sky and blinks. “Oh, I gotta go,” she says quickly, her eyes widening a bit. “Bye!”

Before anyone can react, the twelve-year-old girl had darted out of the training grounds. The dust is still in the air when she disappears out of sight.

“What was  _ that _ about?” Riku frowns at the abrupt disappearance.

“Another loudmouth-fangirl oddity,” Issei drawls, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m out. Goodbye sensei, Riku.”

Issei pushes up his glasses and strolls out of the grounds, disinterested once more.

“I guess I’m going, too,” Riku says. “Same thing tomorrow?”

“We’re probably ready to switch to kunai,” Mori muses. “It should be easier. Shuriken are tricky.”

Riku frowns at the mention of more projectile practice.

“You’ll be fine,” Mori encourages him. “You improved a lot, today.”

“Thanks, sensei,” Riku beams, near glowing with pride. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Mori raises up a hand to wave to the boy, and then blinks when Riku pulls out book from his bag. The boy usually had a book on him to read during the mornings before practice, but it’s a different one than it was yesterday.

Mori catches sight of the title.  _ Regulations on Weapon Creation and Distribution Among Civilian Sectors. _

Just the title makes Mori want to gag -- it sounds like the type of book T&I read to their prisioners as a form of  _ torture _ \-- but he knows that Rikuto enjoys reading boring stuff like that, and…

And finding loopholes.

_ Oh, _ Mori thinks. Maybe there  _ is _ a way he can actually help combat the Massacre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM. Another short-ish chapter, sorry!
> 
> My school is also starting next week, which is ridiculously early and totally _sucks_. I'll try my best to pound out another chapter before then, but after that updates are going to be rather slow! Please bear with me!  
>  (There's also the chance that updates may become faster because I'll have to do more stress writing but don't count on it ;D)
> 
> In other news: this story hit 1000+ views?? Holy crap? THANKS GUYS!! I wasn't expecting so many lovely comments and readers but I'm very glad that you're all here! I'm so glad you're all enjoying my silly little story! Thank you so much!!!


	11. The Massacre, Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID IT I WROTE THE CHAPTER

“Sweet dango on a  _ stick, _ Mori, when was the last time you got sleep?” Aya exclaims. “I’m gone for two measly  _ weeks -- !” _

She shoulders her bag and rushes forward, leaning in and studying his face. Mori turns away and twists out of her grip, rolling his eyes.

“I come back to greet you from a mission well done, and this is what I get?” he mutters, a light grin on his face.

“This isn’t a  _ joke!” _ Aya near screeches. “You look like death!”

“Yeah, Mori,” Yuko says, her arms crossed.  _ “You look like death.” _

“Gee, thanks,” Mori snipes back.

Aya ignores his commentary and turns to face their other teammate. Her eyebrows are knit together in concern and she chews her lip. “Yuko, I thought you said that you’d keep an eye on him.”

“He keeps  _ disappearing,”  _ Yuko says, her voice frigid, and Mori shoots his teammate a betrayed expression.

She sniffs and turns away.

“Damn it, Mori,” Aya grumbles. “We’re taking you out for ramen,  _ right  _ now.”

“You have to report to the Hokage first,” Mori reminds her. She’s just gotten back from a mission, and even though Yuko had dragged him out for Aya’s return, she still has things to do.

“Yuko, take him out for ramen, right now,” Aya commands. “I’ll meet you guys there. Mori, you’re going to eat at least  _ two  _ bowls, okay? And then you’re getting a  _ full  _ night’s rest.”

“Thanks, mom,” Mori mutters.

Aya shoots him an annoyed glare before zipping off to make her mission report.

Mori shakes his head as she disappears from view. Then he twists around. He has things to do, too.

But before Mori can escape, a cold hand snakes around his wrist and drags him down the street.

“You’re not actually going to take me to Ichiraku’s, are you?” Mori asks Yuko. “You  _ hate _ ramen.”

“Ramen is cheap, unhealthy, and excessively salty,” Yuko says, “but Aya’s right. Also, this is the first time in weeks that I’ve gotten to talk to you for more than thirty seconds.” Yuko squeezes his wrist uncomfortably tight. “Every time I try to talk to you, you say something about your genin team or having errands to run, and you disappear. One would almost think you’ve been  _ avoiding me.” _

“I’m not avoiding you!” Mori says, in a fruitless attempt to defend himself.

“You forced me to track you down and drag you out here,” Yuko says, without turning around to look back at him.

“I’m  _ busy!” _

“Well, whatever it is you’re doing, you’re taking a break from it tonight,” Yuko orders. “Consider it  _ team bonding.” _

Mori grimaces and resigns himself to whatever it is his teammates have planned for him.

Really, it’s not like he intended to avoid them. He’s just…

Well, the past four months have been stressful, to say the least.

Yuko sits him down on a stool and orders three bowls of ramen for the three members of their team, no doubt planning her interrogation strategy. 

Mori attempts to protest. “Yuko --”

“Nope!” she says, and suddenly Mori can't feel anything in his legs. 

“What the  _ hell?” _ he protests, and he scoots his stool back from the counter to look at his feet. “Did you just  _ Jyuuken  _ me?!”  He tries to wiggle his toes and watches in horror as nothing happens.

Yuko slips into the stool on his right and folds her hands together, looking like a formal interrogator. “Last time we tried to eat out as a team  _ you ran away. _ ”

“It was an urgent matter!”

“You didn't come back.”

“Ugh,” Mori groans, slumping down and laying his head on the counter. “I  _ hate _ it when you two gang up on me.”

Aya and Yuko are great ninja in themselves, but they also make the most terrifying team. It's incredibly annoying. Mori resigns himself to the upcoming conversation. It's going to be impossible to get away now. 

“I'm here!”

The curtains of the stand blast out of the way as Aya flings herself into the stand, landing on a stool on the other side of Mori. She swings an arm around his shoulder. He resists the urge to attack and flip her over, knowing he'd end up on the ground with his numb legs. 

“So, Mori,” Aya begins, voice low. “How has your week been?”

“Great,” Mori says stiffly. “My team’s doing well and we're getting a lot done.”

“Oh, good, fantastic! I like those little brats of yours.” Aya chirps. “However, I misspoke. How has  _ your  _ week been?”

Mori attempts a smile.

Aya frowns a little bit, before forcing a smile in return. “Well, you’re trying, at least. I can appreciate your honest effort.”

“I’m sorry for avoiding you guys,” Mori says, rubbing his head. “It’s just… a little stressful.”

Aya looks over at Yuko, a silent question in her eyes. Yuko shakes her head. They both glance over at Mori, who is keeping his eyes low and pretending not to notice the concerned expressions on their faces.

There’s an empty seat at the edge of the ramen stand. It’s been four months.

Their ramen arrives, and they eat in silence. Aya and Yuko lean in and press their shoulders against Mori, a quiet show of comfort. Slowly, his legs regain feeling, and slowly, Yuko and Aya draw him out of his shell.

They finish their ramen, but then spend a long time talking, reliving old missions, reminiscing. They trade tales of solo missions, retell old jokes. The undercurrent of nostalgia both saddens and lightens Mori’s mood.

Teuchi-san doesn't seem to mind their extended stay -- it's a slow night and they're having a warm and entertaining conversation. Still, it can't last forever. 

Mori yawns as he gets to his feet. He pulls out some extra coins and leaves a large tip on the counter with a respectful nod to the chef. 

“Thanks, guys,” he says, turning to his teammates.

“You’re going to get some sleep tonight,” Yuko orders, her white eyes pinning him down. “And stop being such a stranger, okay?”

“Right,” Mori says, and this time, his smile is genuine, even if it is a little small. 

“Mori,” Aya says before he leaves. “ Take care of yourself, okay? Even if you have other things going on…  _ you _ matter too, you know?”

Mori smiles reassuringly. “I’ll be fine, Aya.”

Aya holds his gaze, searching. It seems she’s satisfied with the answer, because she nods.

Mori turns to leave, taking a step out and into the street. His feet carry him along, automatically taking him in the direction of his apartment. As he walks, he can’t help but look at the shadows, hoping for a face that he’s not sure would even appear.

He sighs. He loves his team, he really does, but even so. There’s some problems that team bonding can’t quite fix.

“Damn it, Izo,” he mutters, wondering where his friend is. If he’s even alive. “Straightforward mission,  _ my ass.” _

* * *

 

It's incredibly complicated for Mori to pick and choose his D-ranks without making an intentional pattern that the Sandaime can pick up on, but he manages. It's also incredibly complicated to arrange for D-ranks that also happen to be very good surveillance sites of the Uchiha Compound, but he manages that, too.

_ Focus on your team,  _ the Sandaime had said. The 'don't get involved in the Massacre’ was heavily implied, but never explicitly stated. As long as Mori fulfills his duties, the Sandaime can't complain. 

Besides, Itachi’s part of his team, too, unofficial though it is. On his days off, Mori can usually convince the boy to join his team. This also leads to a lot of annoying conversations with Fugaku, but Mori thinks he's starting to wear the clan head down with sheer stubbornness. After all, Itachi has zero complaints about how their system works, and it's not affecting his ANBU duties. 

Either way, Mori's carefully chosen missions is two birds with one stone -- getting D-ranks done while researching the Uchiha.

Mori sits in a tree above a clearing. Below, his genin team labors away at their task, working hard on their mission. He can hear Issei grumbling --  _ we’re ready for a C-rank, damn it -- _ which makes Mori grin. He’s heard his genin complaining, heard them dropping little hints showing their irritation at being assigned constant D-ranks. But they haven’t asked him directly, yet, which is what he’s waiting for.

In a way, he’s glad that they haven’t said anything, because there’s quite a bit he needs to do in Konoha.

This is their fifth D-rank in three weeks that borders the Uchiha compound. Mori’s distantly aware of his team, working diligently and planting shrubs, but most of his attention is on the conversation he can hear on the other side of the wall. He channels chakra to his ears, enhancing his hearing enough that he can pick out the words. 

Hushed voices, quiet whispers. Itachi is right -- tensions are high. 

“I heard that they're making it required to have at least one outsider on an Uchiha’s mission.”

“I heard that they're thinking of making it illegal to use the Sharingan within Konoha.”

“That's fucked up.”

“We don't deserve this.”

“They  _ fear _ us.”

“They  _ should.” _

Mori frowns. It's worrying. 

There are some complaints that are just that -- complaints. Most of them are petty. But then there are those that are legitimate grievances. Even if they are just rumors, rumors are  _ always _ based on a grain of truth. 

Mori’s horrified. Itachi had only brought up the official, confirmed policies -- but Mori knows that these rumors are just as divisive. Even if these measures don't pass the Council, the fact that they were even considered in the first place is concerning. 

Someone is out to get the Uchiha.

Mori takes note of the complaints he picks up from the conversations in the Compound and files them away in his head for later.

“Sensei!”

Mori winces as he quickly draws chakra away from his ears. He flicks his gaze over and quickly spots his three students kneeling on a branch next to him.

_ They’ve gotten the hang of it, now, _ he thinks with pride. All three can comfortably walk on trees, now -- they’ve been practicing it for the past four months, ever since Itachi had dropped by for that first time training them.

“Chie,” he nods, smiling at his student. “Are you three done?”

“Yes,” she says, a determined note in her voice.

“That was quick,” Mori comments. He glances over at the row of freshly planted bushes beneath them and nods in approval.

He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop for what seems like forever, but it seems that his team has proven him wrong. They work together smoothly, finishing their missions quickly and to the best of their ability. Chie and Issei may bicker, and Riku may be a little nervous at times, but when they’re on a mission, the three of them can put aside their arguments and work together to get a job done.

In front of him, Chie takes a deep breath.

Mori’s eyes flicker behind her. Issei and Riku are standing side by side, giving Mori a serious gaze.

“We’re ready for a C-rank, Mori-sensei!” Chie declares, her voice smooth and confident.

_ Ah, _ he thinks.  _ Just as I think it’s lucky they haven’t asked for one. Of course. _

Issei glares at him from behind her, daring him to object. Riku presses his lips together, but he nods, determination in his gaze.

“A C-rank, huh?” Mori asks. At first, he’s tempted to just flat-out refuse. He thinks of the Uchiha, of Itachi being trapped in his duties. He thinks of Izo, who no one has heard of since he’d left four months ago. He doesn’t want to leave the village, he  _ can’t.  _ There’s too much going on in Konoha.

“We can do it, sensei!” Chie says, and behind her Issei and Rikuto nod in agreement.

The words hit Mori like a punch to the gut. A flash of guilt crosses his face, too quickly for his young genin to catch.

He thinks of Issei’s steadily increasing impatience, of Chie’s not-so-subtle hinting at a harder mission. He thinks of Riku’s annoyed groans when they’re assigned another menial task, and of their dutiful laboring.

Yeah, the Massacre is a big deal. And yes, he’s been stressed. That’s no excuse for denying his team a C-rank when he knows that they’re more than ready for it.

“Alright,” he says, a little resignedly. “We'll stop the D-ranks tomorrow and train, and after lunch I’ll find us a suitable C-rank.”

Chie blinks. Her mouth slackens slightly before she shakes her head and leans forward. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Mori says, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’ve thought you were ready for a while. I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”

Issei’s eyes twitch. “You mean, we’ve been slaving away at these useless chores when we could’ve asked you this  _ entire time?” _ he grumbles.

Riku and Chie groan at the same time. Mori cracks a grin as his team turns away and begin making their way down the tree, grumbling the whole way.

“Stupid sensei and his stupid hidden tests,” Issei complains. “‘Everyone does everything for a reason’, I  _ get  _ it already!”

Chie smacks him on the back of his head, nearly knocking off his glasses. “Stop being so rude about sensei, jerk!”

“Stop your unhealthy fangirling, loudmouth!”

Rikuto groans. “You’re both annoying,” he mutters. 

Chie and Issei simultaneously whip their heads around to glare at him. “Shut up, nerd!”

They head toward the Hokage Tower -- a habit Mori had ingrained in them, even if they hadn't noticed. Finish the mission, then report. 

Mori smiles fondly. 

He stretches his shoulders, and then moves to follow his team. But as he climbs down, he can’t help but glance in the direction of the Uchiha Compound.

_ There's too much going on, _ he thinks. Sighing, he shakes his head and climbs down the rest of the tree.

* * *

 

After he dismisses his team for the day, Mori carefully scans the area surrounding him to make sure no one is watching. He reigns in his chakra and starts to make his way toward the Archives. As he walks, he tugs up a hood hidden underneath his jounin vest, effectively hiding his face from view.

For four months he’s been digging through the numerous files in the old library, slogging through papers and papers of mind-numbingly boring legal documents and records of everything related to the Uchiha.

There’s a lot.

He’s also unfamiliar with the organizational system that the Archives has going for them, which is a huge pain. He can’t exactly ask the guards for assistance without letting the Sandaime know that he’s going against his unspoken orders to stay out of the Massacre. And he can’t get caught, either -- he’s sneaking into and out of the Hokage Mountain for this.

He walks by the entrance to the Archives without looking over. It took him a few weeks to become familiar with the guards and the patrols of the Archives, but after four months, it’s not that hard to wait for a switch in guards and slip in while they’re distracted.  He always thinks of informing the Hokage and the ANBU of their lax protection of the Archives, but he manages to talk himself out of it each time. 

Mori makes his way through the Archives undetected. The lights are always dim in here, partially because of the lack of windows and natural light, and partially to protect old documents from the being ruined by light. It's good for stealth and bad for research. He's going to need glasses by the end of this, he's sure. 

He slips past the shelves, retracing his steps from two days ago to find the place where he left off. Suppressing a yawn, he lifts a couple files and starts combing them for information. 

_ I hate politics,  _ he thinks, squinting at the tiny type and trying to make sense of the words. 

He hasn't found anything of use, yet. The Uchiha are an old and prestigious clan, one that's been part of Konoha since its founding. There's a lot of material to wade through, even if he does limit his search to documents from the past ten years. 

He pulls out another folder, thumbs it open and sighs.

It’s another ninja registration form -- there’s a lot of those from the Uchiha. But then he sees the name and pauses.

_ Uchiha Shisui, huh? _

He’s a few years younger than Mori, about nineteen right now, and he’s probably the fastest ninja alive. Shunshin no Shisui, whose skill with the body flicker earned him a spot in the Bingo Book at the young age of fourteen. Itachi talks about him sometimes, telling Mori about how his older cousin spars with him and plays with him, like a brother.

Mori’s never met him face-to-face. He wonders what side the teen is on, if he’s with the Uchiha or with the village.

_ It’d better be the latter, _ Mori thinks. The Uchiha already have a lot of strong ninja in their ranks, even without Itachi and Shisui. If it were any other clan, a rebellion wouldn’t be that much of a problem. But  _ no one _ wants to make an enemy of the Uchiha.

Not to mention, he’s close with Itachi. Mori wonders if Itachi killed Shisui too, the first time around, and he grits his teeth at the thought.

He replaces the file and continues digging through paperwork. Following paper trails and sifting through legal documents isn’t Mori’s style; he prefers eavesdropping and picking apart actions and words. Still he pushes on.

He pulls out another set of documents and leans in to read it.

When a new law is proposed, when a motion is brought forth in the Council, there’s usually a paper trail left behind. It details the suggestion, when it was proposed, and who brought it up. Mori’s been running through these for months, confirming an alarming amount of the rumors he’s heard while eavesdropping at the Uchiha Compound. While Mori can understand the need to keep the Uchiha in check, some of these are just downright  _ ridiculous. _ Prohibiting the Sharingan on any missions lower than an A-rank, never mind self-defense or missions that go astray. A general restraining order to keep all Uchiha away from the Uzumaki kid, forget the fact that there’s no way to keep an entire clan from interacting with someone without watching them constantly.

There were rumors, Mori remembers, that the Uchiha were involved in the Kyuubi attack. That they somehow summoned the bijuu to Konoha, using their Sharingan to orchestrate the attack. Someone’s obviously taking those rumors very seriously and escalating the situation by further limiting the Uchiha.

The problem Mori’s been having is that  _ there’s no mention of who brought it up. _ Someone’s been carefully erasing their tracks, hiding their involvement in the controlling of the Uchiha clan. Whoever it is, they clearly distrust the Uchiha. Riling them up. It’s almost like they’re waiting for an excuse to take them out…

A sudden noise startles Mori out of his thoughts. He swiftly shoves all the files back into their boxes and back onto the shelves. Suppressing his chakra, he slips out of the aisle and crouches in the shadows, eyes darting around the scene.

A figure appears, a dark silhouette at the other end of the bookshelves. Mori holds still, hiding as best as he can, and watches as the figure walks down, closer to his location.

Mori holds his breath as they stop in front of the boxes he’d been digging through. They kneel down, fingers brushing the label on the box, before they stand up and look around.

A bead of sweat runs down the back of Mori’s neck as they turn in his direction. He stiffens as he catches sight of their uniform. Gray flak jacket. Elbow length gloves. Metal armor. A porcelain mask.

An  _ ANBU? _

Slowly, carefully, Mori stretches out a tiny tendril of chakra, attempting to feel out the unknown figure. From what little he can feel, it’s not a chakra signature he recognizes. In fact, it doesn’t feel like a chakra signature at all. It’s too cold, almost robotic. Mori pulls back his chakra and bites his lip.

After looking around one more time, the figure walks away, disappearing into the darkness of the Archives.

Mori’s hands curl into fists.

_ That wasn’t one of the guards. _

* * *

 

_ Who the hell was that? _

Mori leaves the Archives quickly after that, quietly slipping out, pulling down his hood, and leaving to wander the streets of Konoha. His mind is entirely focused on replaying that entire encounter, from start to finish.

An ANBU? Perhaps the Hokage is doing the same thing he is -- sending in someone to look into the anti-Uchiha legislation, looking for loopholes or ways to repeal the laws. It would explain the ANBU’s presence and why they were watching the Uchiha files specifically. That’s the only explanation that makes sense to Mori, and the most logical.

But he can’t shake the feeling away, that cold, emotionless chakra. It was as if that ANBU were an emotional vacuum with how empty they felt.

With a shiver, Mori ducks into a barbecue stand, taking a seat at the end of the counter. He hasn't eaten dinner yet, and he's  _ really  _ not in the mood for cooking for himself. 

“Barbecue pork, please,” he orders. “And a water.”

The owner smiles at him. “Coming right up,” he says, and Mori smiles back in return.

“Senpai?” 

Mori turns his head. Iruka is sitting down, a couple stools away, waiting for his own meal. 

_ Oh, thank Kami, _ he thinks.  _ A distraction. _

“Iruka!” Mori exclaims. He scoots over two stools and takes the space next to Iruka. “I haven't seen you in a while. How's the Academy?”

Iruka looks up, eyes wide and begging for help. “They need me to be a homeroom teacher.”

“Already?” Mori asks. “It hasn't even been a full year, yet.”

“I know,” Iruka says, shaking his head. “But… they don't have anyone else who is willing to teach Uzumaki.”

Mori’s eyes widen. “...Uzumaki Naruto,” he says. “... And they want you to be his homeroom teacher.” 

“I know, right?” Iruka laughs, but the sound is hollow and lacking its usual humor. He places his head in his hands and smiles, false and brittle. “I don't know if I can do this.”

_ To be honest, I don't know if you can either, _ Mori thinks, a shadow passing over his face. The Uchiha are going to die, Iruka’s going to die… Kami, why is everyone fated to some gruesome murder?

Iruka’s eyes are wide as he stares at the wood grain of the counter. “The Sandaime wants  _ me _ to teach him?  _ Me?  _ I don't want to do this!”

“Everyone lost something that night, Iruka,” Mori says lowly. 

“I  _ know _ ,” Iruka answers. “I  _ know _ already, and I  _ know  _ I'm going to take the stupid job. I don't want to. But I'm going to.”

“Well, think of it this way,” Mori says. “Sandaime-sama trusts you to put aside your personal feelings for this. He's trusting you to be objective and responsible.”

“I am the  _ epitome  _ of responsibility, yes,” Iruka agrees. 

“Oh, please,” Mori rolls his eyes. “You haven't pulled a prank in  _ years.  _ You're a lot more mature now than you were before.”

“I guess,” Iruka says, looking uncomfortable. “But, it was already hard enough that I had to see him once a week. Now it's every day, and in the same  _ classroom  _ for hours on end…”

Mori claps a hand on Iruka’s shoulder. “You're going to be fine,” he says fiercely. He thinks of Iruka’s dead body and suppresses the thought as best he can. “You’re a good kid, Iruka. You can do this.”

Iruka looks up, meeting Mori’s eyes. “...Thanks, senpai.”

Mori grins back, hoping to hide the conflict in him. Iruka’s death, the Uchiha’s deaths. He can’t get it all out of his mind.

_ There’s too much going on. _

Mori distracts himself by changing the subject. He tells Iruka about his genin team’s request for a C-rank. Iruka responds with a funny story about one of his classes at the Academy. They start swapping stories about their students, both of them ignoring the other problems going on in their lives.

After their meal and conversation, Mori walks back to his apartment and stares at his ceiling for a long time before falling asleep.

* * *

 

“A C-rank?”

The Sandaime lifts an eyebrow at Mori, who nods.

“My team is ready,” he says, without a hint of doubt or uncertainty. He meets the Hokage’s gaze, conveying the message. 

He can practically hear his students smiling behind him: Chie trembling in excitement, Riku standing tall with pride, and Issei’s predatory, anticipating grin.

“Okay,” the Sandaime says, accepting the assessment. He shuffles through the papers on his desk before pulling out a mission folder and handing it to Mori.

He takes it and flips it open, scanning the contents.

“Hmm,” he hums, taking in the information. “We’ll take it.”

“You’ll leave tomorrow morning,” the Sandaime says, dismissing Mori and his team with a wave of his hand.

The four members of Team Four bow down.

“Thank you, Hokage-sama,” Chie says. “We won’t let you down!”

The Sandaime gives them a fond smile, and Team Four leaves the office with a spring in their steps.

“What’s the mission, sensei?” Chie asks, jumping up and grabbing Mori’s arm. “Are we gonna fight bandits? Protect royalty? Guard a magic artifact?”

Mori laughs and pries Chie off his arm. “Closer to the last one, actually.”

Chie’s eyes widen comically. “Really?”

“Yep,” Mori says, flipping the folder open.

“If we’re leaving tomorrow, then we’re going to be leaving the village.” Issei says.

“Yes,” Mori replies. “There’s a temporary exhibit in Yugakure showing some valuable gemstones,” he says. “They’re worth a lot of money and they want protection to ward off any bandits and thieves.”

“Where’s Yugakure?” Chie asks.

“North of here,” Riku answers. “It’s a village in the Land of Hot Water. It used to be a ninja village, but they shut down the ninja activity after the Second Shinobi World War.”

“What do they do now?” Chie asks.

“Hot springs tourism.”

Chie crinkles her nose. “Weird.”

“Not really,” Riku says, shifting into lecture mode. “There’s a lot of volcanic activity in the area, but the heat is balanced out by the rivers and lakes in their mountains. When the snow melts, they use the water from the streams to cool down the springs so they can use it for baths.”

“I asked for where it was, not an Academy lecture,” Chie grumbles.

Issei rolls his eyes at his teammates before turning to Mori. “How long will the mission take?”

“The exhibit’s open for a week,” Mori says. “Factoring in travel time… about eleven days. We'll have accommodations and food supplied to us, plus we can stock up over there. So pack for a two-day journey.”

Issei stares. Riku nods. Chie salutes. 

“We'll meet at the main gates at seven thirty tomorrow,” Mori instructs them. “Don't be late.”

“Gotcha!” Chie grins. 

Once they're out of the tower, his three students disperse, presumably to start packing. Mori smiles at their antics before picking a direction to walk and moving forward.

He makes his way through the streets and toward where Yuko and her team were; his teammates would kill him if he disappeared on a mission without telling them first. As he moves through the village, he’s almost hyper-aware of every single Uchiha shinobi in his vicinity. There’s two on the rooftops to his left, another in the alley on his right.

The Uchiha Police Force makes its rounds around the village, and he can’t get the thought of a  _ coup _ out of his mind. He wonders how many support the coup and how many don’t. He remembers the Sandaime’s orders to focus on his team, he remembers Itachi’s desperate plea for help. He thinks back to the ANBU in the Archives and groans.

Everything is so complicated nowadays.

He arrives at Yuko’s training grounds, his lips twitching when she has her team sparring in the trees without touching the ground. He can hear the sounds of them complaining about having to constantly channel chakra to their feet while they fight. 

Her Byakugan is activated as she keeps track of her genin. Mori walks forward, not bothering to mask his presence. 

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?” Yuko asks without turning around. 

Mori winces. She's still a little angry at him for four months of going underground. 

“Just wanted to inform you that I'm taking my team on a C-rank,” he says. 

“Mhm.” Yuko turns her head slightly. “It's about time. How long has it been, three, four months, now?”

“Getting closer to  _ five _ , actually. They took their sweet time,” Mori shrugs. “Took awhile for them to ask.”

Yuko sighs. “You get the easy team, of course,” she grumbles. “My brats were begging for A-ranks the second week.”

Mori snorts. He and Yuko stand next to each other as her genin battle it out in a three-way spar.

“It’s probably their first time out of the village,” Mori says, referring to his team. 

“They'll be fine,” Yuko replies, catching the hint of concern in his words. “It's a C-rank. Don't worry too much about it.”

“I'll try,” Mori promises. 

“How long will you be gone?” Yuko asks. 

“Two weeks at the most,” Mori says. 

“Where to?”

“Hot Water.”

“Nice,” Yuko laughs. “That's practically a vacation.”

Mori shrugs. He'd never been one for hot springs; he preferred being clothed around strangers. And then there was the fact that he had a seal literally burnt onto his chest. That wasn't something that he wanted to advertise. 

Above them, one of Yuko’s students finally gives out, ditching the side of the tree trunk to come down and collapse on the ground. 

“Finished, Misaki?” Yuko asks. 

“Yes,” she gasps out. “I - I'm done.” Her limbs are sprawled or across the dirt. There's the occasional involuntary twitch, but otherwise, she's completely still.

Mori smiles. For all of Misaki’s threatening size and build, she’s surprisingly not that good with the physical side of being a ninja. He recalls the day of the color test, when his team met Yuko’s, and when they shied away from the intimidating girl.

In truth, Riku could’ve probably taken her in taijutsu even back then.

“You did well,” Yuko says. “Don't just lie there. Stretch.”

“Okay, sensei.”

She pulls herself up to a sitting position and throws out her legs, straining and stretching her muscles. When she looks up, she catches sight of Mori standing next to Yuko. 

“Hi, Mori-san!” she says. “Please ask sensei to go easy on us.”

“Hey, Misaki,” Mori replies. “Even if I ask, she's not gonna do it.”

Yuko rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “If you have enough energy to complain…” she threatens. 

Misaki does the smart thing and shuts up. 

A few more minutes pass as Yuko’s two other students battle it out. Kozue and Michi are always competing against each other, often in loud and destructive ways. Luckily for Yuko, Misaki is a natural leader despite her lack of skill -- she’s capable of balancing out the other two members of her team.

“Have any last minute C-rank advice for me?” Mori asks Yuko, half joking and half serious.

Yuko turns her head to look at Mori, and suddenly he’s frozen under the intensity of her white-eyed gaze. She pins him down with her eyes. A cloud crosses over the sun and a shadow falls across the clearing; the temperature drops by a few degrees.

“I hope you weren’t ignoring your team the way you were ignoring me and Aya,” Yuko intones.

Mori breaks out in a cold sweat.

The cloud passes, and the moment is left behind. Yuko’s stony expression breaks into a smug smirk as she turns back to watch her team. “Just kidding, Mori.”

“Geez,” Mori mutters, feeling a chill run down his spine.

“That was really creepy, sensei,” Misaki comments from her position on the ground.

Yuko arches an eyebrow. “What did I say about complaining, Misaki?”

Misaki blushes and returns to stretching.

“Thanks, Yuko,” Mori says in a dry tone. “I’m just going to go now.”

“Good luck on your mission,” she says, this time with genuine friendliness. She places a hand on his shoulder. “Come back.”

Mori pauses.

“Will you… while I’m gone…”

“I’ll keep an eye out for Izo,” Yuko promises, not needing any clarification. She squeezes his shoulder before letting go.

“Thanks,” Mori says, a small smile on his lips. He waves goodbye to Misaki and leaves the grounds.

He wonders if it's bad that he's hoping that this mission is wrapped up as fast as possible, wishing that he didn't have to leave Konoha at all. In his head, he starts reviewing all the things he needs to pack for the mission, and he hopes that his genin will pack smart for their journey.

* * *

 

They leave at seven thirty exactly. Chie and Issei are both early by twenty minutes. Both of them are clearly excited for the mission, though Chie is a little more open about it than Issei is.

She bounces around, telling Issei about how she packed and repacked her bag thirty times and how she could barely get any sleep. Even now, she checks her bag and pats her pockets, constantly reassuring herself that she didn't forget anything. 

For once, Issei doesn't complain about her babbling. He stands relatively still, but his nerves show up in the way he keeps cleaning his glasses and how he taps his foot impatiently. 

Riku shows up five minutes after them, hands shaking with excitement. He releases his energy by spouting off random facts about the Land of Hot Water. No doubt he couldn't sleep and spent the night researching instead. 

Mori grins from his position on a bench a few feet away. None of his genin noticed him as he watched them arrive -- such is the advantage of having such an average appearance. Two minutes before seven thirty, and maybe one second before Chie gives in and starts tearing the village up in search of him, Mori shunshins to their location and appears in a swirl of leaves. 

“Sensei!” Chie near shouts. She bounces on the balls of her feet, her hair bobbing around her head. “Are we going now? We’re going now, right?”

Mori laughs and walks past his team. He takes a step outside of the gate and turns to look back. “You coming?”

“Hell yeah!” Chie yells, scrambling forward. Issei and Riku are right on her heels.

The chuunin at the gate smile fondly. Mori acknowledges them with a knowing smile and a nod.

“Good luck,” one calls out as the four leave the walls of Konoha.

“Thank you!” Riku yells back.

Chie has a bouncy spring in her walk as she falls into step beside Mori. She looks back at Riku and Issei and smiles.

“Let’s kill this mission!” she declares, before looking forward again.

Issei rolls his eyes at the wording, but he’s grinning. Riku nods determinedly, an expectant smile on his face. The three genin move forward, chatting excitedly about their mission.

Mori wishes that he has that kind of attitude. He looks over his shoulder, looking back as the main gates of Konoha grow smaller and smaller.

He thinks of Itachi. He thinks of the Uchiha. He thinks of Izo and Aya and Yuko, and of the mysterious ANBU in the Archives.

_ Good luck, _ he thinks. Somehow, he has the feeling that Konoha needs it more than he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno about that last statement, Mori...
> 
> "Cheap, unhealthy, and excessively salty" describes both ramen and Izo, and I find that hilarious tbh. Izo would probably find that funny too, if he were around.
> 
> Iruka, poor man. I love that boy so much you know? I have great respect for teachers and Iruka is a fantastic example of one and he just. he's fair and he's kind and he takes care of his students. bless Iruka. Give him the strength to teach the whirlwind known as Uzumaki Naruto.
> 
> Also, SHISUI SHISUI i love that guy, you know? I can't wait to write him in. But that's probably not going to be for a while, because other things need to happen first.  
> (Does anyone know how old he is in canon? I've reread all the chapters with him in it and did some in-depth googling, but I don't think his age has ever been mentioned. In my head, he's around Kakashi's age, maybe a little younger.)
> 
> ANYWAY.  
> My school is starting up in like, three days. RIP. Updates are gonna slow down, but I'll do my best! I'm too invested in the rest of the arc to give it up, haha.


	12. The Massacre, Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something always happens on a genin's first C-rank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is pretty heavy on the OCs, and I know some people just want some canon plot adventures. So if you're here for that, you can just skip to that last divide.
> 
> (Of course, I still definitely recommend you read the whole chapter. I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to make sure there were no loose ends.)
> 
> And another note: Mori means 'forest' in Japanese. It's usually used as a surname, but I've used it as a given name 1) because it's funny, and 2) a reference to Moriko from the Sakana webcomic (which is A+ and funny and I highly recommend it.)

Chie and Riku fill hours of silence with a constant stream of chatter. Chie gushes about the mission and daydreams aloud about the adventures they’ll have. Riku spouts facts about Yugakure and gemstones. For once, Chie doesn’t complain about his ‘nerd’ talk -- so eager she is to lap up every bit of information she can get.

Issei keeps up with them for a couple of hours before he grows bored with Chie and Riku’s conversation. Mori can tell by the way he stops rolling his eyes and scoffing at his teammates in favor of watching the trees and their surroundings. 

Issei slows his pace down, just enough that Chie and Riku jog on ahead and so that he's keeping pace with Mori. 

“Not joining the conversation?” Mori asks. 

“No,” Issei says, blunt and without shame. 

Mori makes a noncommittal sound as they continue their trek through Fire Country. The forest is thinning out, the trees around them becoming skinnier and less leafy. They've been moving for quite a while now, at a pace meant for covering long distances -- not leisurely, but not too quickly, either. 

Issei and Mori move in silence for a few minutes. The only sounds around them are Chie, Riku, and the birds in the trees. 

Mori takes in a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air. It smells of pine and dirt, but there's also a hint of cleanliness that's hard to come across in Konoha.

Mori closes his eyes as they make their way forward.  _ Nature. _

Beside him, Issei remains quiet, dark eyes constantly darting around. He can't use his chakra for sensing, not yet, so he makes use of his senses and keeps watch. The woods are quiet. 

Issei cracks first. 

“How many gemstones are we guarding?” Issei asks. 

“It's an entire exhibit,” Mori answers.

“And they're targets?” Issei asks. 

“For thieves and bandits, yes.”

“How likely are we to run into enemies?”

Mori thinks for a moment before he answers his student. “Not likely,” he decides. “Yugakure’s a vacation spot, not a ninja village. They have their fair share of thieves, but they’re civilian thieves who likely have never encountered shinobi before. Our presence alone would deter most of them. That’s what the museum owner is counting on.”

“So any enemies would be low-level, foolhardy bandits.”

“Yes,” Mori answers. He flicks his eyes over to Issei. “I trust you can handle that?”

Issei smirks. Mori smiles at Issei’s enthusiasm -- perhaps not as obvious as his teammates, but definitely still there. 

Ahead, Chie laughs at something from their conversation and Riku grins back. Mori’s glad that they're enjoying their first time out of the village, but he makes sure to speak up. 

“Try not to be too loud,” he calls out. “Don't want to attract any unnecessary attention.”

Riku flushes, looking appropriately embarrassed. 

“Yes, sensei!” Chie salutes.

Issei rolls his eyes as the two continue their conversation in a slightly hushed tone, but he has an amused smirk on his face. 

_ They're looking more and more like a team everyday,  _ Mori thinks with pride. Months of bonding over D-ranks and training deepened the bonds between them. At first they were three genin who happened to share a sensei -- now, Mori can say that they really are a team.

_ They've grown a lot. _

He remembers the potential he'd seen the day of their genin test, of the way they fit together and played their strengths in ways that made them stronger. If he tilts his head sideways and squints, he can see the beginnings of a strong, solid team. 

Suddenly, Chie trips over a rock and falls forward with a wild shriek. Riku, startled, grasps her arm and pulls her back, but then he falls backward in the process and they both slam into an angry Issei.

Mori sidesteps them as they hit the ground, dust flying into the air. 

Issei chokes from the bottom of the pile. “What the hell?!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Riku exclaims, hopping to his feet. 

Chie dusts off her clothes and smiles sheepishly. “Oops.”

_ They've grown a lot,  _ Mori thinks with a rueful shake of his head,  _ but they still have a long way to go. _

* * *

 

 

It takes two days to reach Yugakure, and by the time they reach the edges of the city, His genin look about ready to explode with anticipation. They practically run into the village, and immediately start looking from building to building.

"Which one is it?" Chie asks.

Mori shrugs and pulls out a map.

It takes a few minutes to find the museum they’re going to be guarding. Most of the buildings are tourist shops, selling t-shirts and keychains and towels. Chie and Riku look around, fascinated. Issei frowns and turns to Mori.

“This used to be a ninja village?’ he mutters, looking skeptically at an old lady shouting at the passerby, advertising her fancy glass figurines for a price far higher than they should be. Tourists with cameras wander the streets, occasionally stopping to take pictures for no apparent reason. 

“Look at the architecture,” Mori suggests, leaving Issei to puzzle it out for himself as he squints at the map and tries to determine where they are in the village. 

Yugakure is smaller than Konoha, but due to its status as a popular tourist stop, it's also more dense. The buildings are crowded together. The stands are crowded together. The people are crowded together. 

They press in on all sides and Mori has to suppress his reflexes, consciously reminding himself to not pull out a kunai. In Konoha, at least, the civilians knew to steer clear of shinobi; the citizens of Yugakure knew of no such rule. 

“They have a bookstore!” Riku exclaims. 

Chie facepalms and Issei rolls his eyes. 

“I wasn't going to go in!” Riku protests. “Mission first!”

“This way,” Mori says, moving towards an alley to their left. They stay close and weave their way through the crowd until they're in the shadows of the buildings. 

Mori leads his genin through the unfamiliar streets, keeping an eye out for the address of the museum. 

“Are you sure this is the right way, sensei?” Riku asks hesitantly. “It's kind of… Um…”

“I'm sure sensei knows where we're going,” Chie says in an attempt to reassure him, but she keeps shooting questioning looks at their lonely surroundings. It's a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the main street, and also a bit confusing.

“Oh,” Issei says, as they pass another building. He's looking up. Chie leans over and looks up, too, but she frowns in confusion. 

“‘Oh’, what?”

“The roofs,” he says. “Flat and similar in level. And the windows are wide with thick windowsills, for when the ninja use them.”

“Very good, Issei,” Mori says, and he finally pulls to a stop in front of a tiny wooden door guarding the entrance to a simple-looking building. The only identifying mark of a museum is a small, nondescript sign hanging above the door, reading ‘Yugakure Natural History Museum’. 

Riku’s eyes light up. Chie looks decidedly disappointed. Issei doesn't care. 

Mori checks the address one more time before reaching out and opening the door. 

“Hello?” he calls out as he and his team step into the museum. 

Issei snorts and Chie has to stifle a laugh at the decor: pink and yellow curtains, vintage flower wallpaper, and a chandelier with glass shards hanging down. As light passes through the single window of the museum and through the chandelier, it casts rainbows of varying intensity across the far wall. 

Riku stares, a dubious expression on his face. 

“Oh!”

A muffled voice. The sounds of scuffling footsteps reach their ears, followed by a muffled  _ thump _ and a sad cry of dismay.

Two seconds later, a harried old woman rushes into the lobby of the museum, looking a little ruffled but otherwise unharmed. 

She beams at the four of them and rushes forward. 

“You must be the Konoha ninja!” she gushes, pumping Issei’s hand up and down. She quickly moves on, shaking all of their hands. 

Issei carefully wipes his palm on his pant leg. Chie catches him and steps on his foot. 

“Kochiyama Akimi?” Mori asks as she enthusiastically shakes his hand. 

“Yes!” she agrees, adjusting her crooked glasses and stretching a smile across her weathered face. “A pleasure!”

Issei looks around the museum with a blank gaze, taking in the garish curtains and lopsided pedestals displaying different rocks. His eyes land upon a plaster pillar covered with bright red mosaics, and the little water spout that sticks out on top of it. 

“Is that a  _ drinking fountain?” _ Riku whispers, and they can only stare at it. 

Issei opens his mouth. “This place is --”

“Lovely,” Chie cuts him off, elbowing him in the gut. “It's  _ lovely.” _

Mori can't help the way his mouth twitches in amusement. 

“Thank you!” Akimi smiles brightly. She turns around, looking back in the direction she came from. “Sachiko-chan! Come here!”

Grumbling sounds come from the direction that Akimi came from. After a short pause, a young teen with a disgruntled expression on her face appears, brandishing a broom. 

She glances at the three genin before her eyes settle on Mori. There's a flash of surprise on her face. 

“Hello,” she says. “I’m Kochiyama Sachiko.” Sachiko points a thumb at the older woman with an apathetic expression. “I'm her great-niece.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Mori says out of politeness.

“Sachiko is helping me take care of the exhibit!” Akimi chirps.

_ Janitor, _ Mori translates, noting the broom and the way the teen’s clothes are covered with dust.

“I’m so glad you’re here, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow! Ninja travel quite quickly, don’t they?”

Chie, Issei, and Riku simultaneously break out into wide grins. 

_ Ninja. _

It’s their first time being acknowledged as ninja outside of their village, and they all radiate pride and excitement. 

“I didn't realize you had hired ninja, obasan,” Sachiko says. 

“Oh,” Akimi says, looking confused. “I didn't mention it? Well, this is one of our special exhibits, we should guard it.”

Sachiko shrugs, seemingly uncaring. 

“This is the collection you'll be guarding,” Akimi says, drawing their attention, and she sweeps them forward to a section of the room filled with rocks. 

Chie blinks, the grin disappearing from her face only to be replaced with disappointed confusion. “I thought they were gemstones?”

“There's more in the back rooms,” Akimi assures her. “I just thought I'd give you the full tour! Here, we have some raw elements in their solid form -- very hard to find naturally!”

“Did you mine them?” Riku asks. 

Akimi laughs. “Ah, I'm much too old for mining,” she says. “No, most of these rocks here are from our museum’s private collection. Many have been sitting in the back rooms for years. With this rock exhibit, we finally have a chance to show them off.”

“Whoa,” Riku says, reading the plaque underneath a rather boring chunk of rock. “Does this really blow up when it comes into contact with water?”

“Oh, yes,” Akimi gushes. “This is sodium metal! See, when it comes into contact with water, it reacts and releases hydrogen gas which can ignite…”

Akimi ushers a fascinated Riku through the rest of the exhibit. The young boy peppers her with questions, and Akimi is happy to answer them. 

Sachiko looks horrified. “There's  _ two  _ of them,” the teen mutters. 

Issei and Chie mirror the girl’s horrified expression. 

“Ugh,” Chie says, making a face at Akimi and Riku’s retreating backs. “At least  _ one _ of us will have fun on this mission.”

“We're not here to have fun,” Mori reminds her, and Chie salutes in response. 

“Remember, this is a mission,” Mori says, moving to follow Riku and Akimi through the museum. “Pay attention, okay? You’re guarding all of this stuff.”

At that comment, Issei and Chie start looking around the room, looking beyond the obnoxious decor and focusing on the essentials. 

Sachiko sighs. “Well, I'm glad you're here,” she says. “It's always nice to feel a little more secure.”

“No problem, Kochiyama-san!” Chie declares.

“Sachiko is fine,” the teen says. 

“Sachiko-san!”

The girl laughs before gripping her broom and returning back to the hallways. Mori turns back to his students, watching them as they start counting entrances and exits and other important features of the building. 

Mori himself has already been planning out how he would distribute his students to guard the museum, taking notes on their surroundings ever since they stepped foot into Yugakure. But he keeps his thoughts to himself. Unless his kids make some glaring error or something goes seriously wrong, he’ll simply lay low and observe.

Team Four is smart and balanced, and they have good teamwork. Mori trusts them to not mess up too badly. 

After all, what's a genin’s first C-rank without a little responsibility?

* * *

 

They catch up to Riku and Akimi, the two of them animatedly discussing the history and geology of the stone before them. 

“Look, sensei,” Chie says, pointing out a reflective orange rock. “Orange!”

“It's a nice rock,” Mori agrees, the corner of his mouth tugging up in amusement.

The rocks in this section are far more eye catching and aesthetically pleasing. Different colored rocks are proudly displayed around the room, all with varying degrees of shine and size. Some are polished, others are not. There doesn't seem to any organization in how they are placed around the room, but a single pedestal standing taller than all the rest does catch Mori’s eye. 

“Are these the most valuable rocks in the collection?” Issei asks Akimi. 

“Yes.” Akimi nods seriously, gazing out at the collection. “Only two of these ones are from the museum’s personal collection, small as we are. Most of these are borrowed from Iwa’s collections, which is why we need to guard it so carefully.”

Chie nods, her face the picture of serious professionalism. “We understand, Kochiyama-san. We’ll guard it to the best of our ability!”

Akimi smiles fondly at that, her old eyes softening at Chie’s youthful enthusiasm.

“Which one is the most valuable?” Riku asks.

Mori nods in approval -- a good question. It would certainly be relevant information, knowing which stones are highest priority.

Akimi’s eyes settle on the tallest pedestal, and she drifts toward it. “The  _ real _ gem -- no pun intended -- is this beauty right here,” she declares.

Inside the glass case sits a small stone, rounded and smooth like a large marble. It’s dark, nearly black, but when Mori shifts his gaze the light catches on its surface, iridescent.

“The third largest specimen of black opal in the Five Nations,” Akimi says with pride. “A beauty, isn’t it?”

Chie stares at the gem with wide eyes. “Wow.”

“It’s worth over three million ryo,” Akimi says. “And it’s not ours, so we have to guard it very carefully.”

“Understood,” Chie salutes, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“The exhibit opens up tomorrow, yes?” Issei asks as he studies the room around them.

“Yes,” Akimi nods, “and it will last seven days.”

“We’ll have to work up a schedule,” Riku murmurs. “At least one of us should be watching this one at all times.”

“I counted three entrances, and there’s four of us,” Chie says, including Mori in her head count. “One of us at the front door, one at the back, one at that side door, and one in this room.”

Issei lifts an eyebrow. “Did you count windows?”

Chie smiles sheepishly. “... Um.”

“Well, Mori-sensei said there’s probably not going to be ninja, right? It’s more likely that they’ll come in through the doors.” Riku speaks up. 

“Plan for the worst, hope for the best,” Issei says.

Chie rolls her eyes, muttering ‘what a pessimist’ under her breath. 

“Guarding three doors and one in this room should be more than enough,” Riku argues. “We can just rotate the guard then.”

“Your rotation doesn’t include a slot for sleep, dumbass,” Issei says, and suddenly all three genin are hissing at each other, arguing over patrol patterns and scheduling. 

“Ahh, youth,” Akimi beams, as she flits over to stand next to Mori. “They're quite the team, aren't they? They get along quite well for genin.”

As the words leave her mouth, Chie huffs and crosses her arms as Issei smirks triumphantly. Riku sighs and nods.

Mori glances over at the older woman. “You're familiar with ninja?” He asks, a curious frown on his face. 

“My brother was a shinobi of Shimogakure, up north in the Land of Frost,” Akimi explains. “Sachiko is his granddaughter.”

“I see,” Mori muses. 

The genin stroll up to them. Issei takes the lead on the explanation, outlining a plan for guarding the museum. Chie and Riku chime in with extra commentary, occasionally sparking quick changes to the plan as it's said aloud. 

Mori smiles as he makes little adjustments to their layout.

“Not bad,” he tells his team, and all three grin in response.

* * *

 

It's exciting for the first two days. Then the novelty wears off, and Mori is tasked with the incredibly difficult feat of keeping three twelve-year-olds focused on guarding a room of rocks.

He catches Chie and Riku playing rock-paper-scissors against each other on the second day, even though they're on opposite sides of the exhibit. When he confronts them, Chie flushes with embarrassment while Riku grins sheepishly. Even though he constantly reminds them to pay at least a  _ little _ attention to their surroundings, they still find ways to distract themselves. 

Chie has taken to chatting with Sachiko the janitor while she's watching the museum lobby. It's not too bad, until she and Sachiko both let someone inside without paying for a ticket, too busy with their conversation. They're lucky the person wasn’t a thief, because that would have been an embarrassing failure of a mission.

Riku ends up playing tour guide instead of a guard; he animatedly chats with the visitors, sharing all the facts about rocks and gemstones he's learned from Akimi. On the one hand, he’s keeping a regular watch over the stones; on the other hand, the back entrance was left open and unattended for two hours before Riku remembered where he was supposed to be standing.

Issei, of course, stays at his post. Mori almost is proud of the way Issei can stand at attention for hours on end, at least until he learns that the kid can sleep standing up  _ and _ with his eyes open.

It's disturbing, to say the least -- his bored and lethargic expression never changes. The only way Mori can make sure he's awake is by sensing Issei’s chakra. Mori has to check on him, every so often, just to make sure he’s still awake.

Mori sighs -- yes, it's their first C-rank (and being a guard is a special kind of boring in its own category) but surely they could at least  _ try _ to pay a little more attention?

Right now, Chie and Sachiko are carrying on a conversation about their respective villages.

“It’s warm and bright most of the year,” Chie says. “Except for the two months of rain we get in the winter time. If we're lucky, we might get an inch or two of snow.”

“That sounds nice,” the older girl sighs. “Shimo is always cold and snowy. We’re lucky if we get two months  _ without _ snow.”

“Really?” Chie asks. “I can't even imagine somewhere that cold!”

Sachiko laughs and leans on the front desk. It’s a slow day today, and the teen is in charge of the front desk and admissions. Chie is guarding the lobby and the front room. Mori flits around from student to student and generally keeps an eye on things, making sure that they don't get  _ too _ lax, even on a C-Rank in ‘practically-a-vacation’ Yugakure. 

He slips into the lobby and starts timing how long it takes for Chie to notice him standing there.

“It’s annoying,” Sachiko informs Chie. “We have to shovel the snow every single day, and our electricity gets knocked out every few weeks or so. The worst part is running out of candles in the middle of a blizzard. We have to store food all year, because sometimes we get snowed in, and then we can't get food from outside.”

“Wow,” Chie says. “That's extreme! The worst that ever happened in Konoha is…” she trails off. “Well,  _ that _ was an outlying occasion. But other than that, Konoha doesn’t really get many disaster-type things.”

“‘That?’” Sachiko asks, a curious glint in her eye.

Mori is  _ pretty _ sure that he knows what Chie is referring to, but Chie doesn’t confirm it, instead shaking her head.

“Nothing,” she says. “But we do have a really famous training ground --  _ The Forest of Death. _ Doesn’t that sound so cool?”

“‘Forest of Death’,” Sachiko muses. “It does sound quite intimidating. Speaking of forests, isn’t that your sensei’s name? Mori-san?”

Mori looks up at the sound of his name and frowns.

“Oh, yeah,” Chie says. “I guess. Why?”

“It’s kind of funny,” Sachiko says. “You know. Mori, from  _ Konoha. _ The leaf.”

Chie giggles.

Mori is tempted to just walk out and leave, because Aya and Yuko have brought that up  _ many _ times over the course of their friendship.

“What does he do?” Sachiko asks.

“He’s our sensei,” Chie answers automatically.

“I mean, yeah,” Sachiko says. “But jounin usually have a specialty, don’t they?”

At this, Mori stiffens. Why would the teen ask about his skills? Is she fishing for information? Or is it just an innocent question?

Chie looks uncomfortable with the question, responding with a shrug. Though she likes to talk and gets along well with Sachiko, she does know to not bring up too much about ninja things. “Um…”

Her eyes dart around the lobby before finally landing on Mori. “Sensei!” she calls out in relief.

Sachiko’s eyes dart over and widen ever so slightly.

Mori keeps his expression carefully blank as he moves closer. “Forty-two seconds for you to notice me, Chie,” he admonishes her. “You can pay better attention than that.”

Chie salutes and gets to her feet, scooting back to her post. “Okay. Sorry, Sachiko, I need to guard some rocks!”

“You go do that, Chie-chan,” Sachiko says, smiling at the younger girl as she scampers back to her post.

Mori scrutinizes the teen, who leans back in her chair at the front desk. She catches him staring and lifts an eyebrow, as if to say ‘ _ what of it?’ _

Shaking his head, Mori goes off to walk around the perimeter and make sure Issei isn’t dozing off on the job.

* * *

 

It's Mori's turn to guard the lobby and the front entrance. He hates to admit it, but he completely agrees with his students: guarding jobs are  _mind-numbingly boring._

Nothing ever really happens on these types of jobs, especially C-ranks. This particular mission is exceptionally boring, as well, because they're in some hole-in-the-wall unknown museum that no one ever visits.

Outside the window, Mori can see Sachiko sitting against a wall, half-asleep. She's supposed to be attracting visitors, but judging by her dazed expression and tired body language, she isn't having much luck.

"What made you want to run a museum, Akimi-san?" Mori asks, part out of boredom and part actual curiosity. He hasn't opened his mouth in three hours and he can't understand how someone would willingly enter this business.

Akimi, who is running the front desk, looks up at the sound of his voice. She blinks at the question, before a slow smile spreads across her face.

"I love learning," she confesses. "And I love sharing knowledge with others. Always have."

"I can tell," Mori says, thinking of the way she and Riku would spend every spare moment talking about anything, from history, to geology, to politics. Akimi is old and wizened; Riku is young and eager. It's hard to get mad at their constant chattering when it's clear both of them enjoy it so much.

"That's why I moved to Yugakure," Akimi muses, lost in memories.

"Oh?"

"Yes," Akimi says. "I was born in Shimo. Not into a ninja clan, although my brother became one."

Mori remembers that bit of information: Akimi brought it up on their first day.

"My family didn't approve of it," Akimi says. "They arranged a marriage for me, to a wealthy merchant back in Shimo. But I didn't want to marry him, so I ran away from home."

" _Oh."_ Mori says, pointedly coughing.

 _That got personal,_ he thinks with a bit of alarm. It seems that Akimi is getting ready to share her life story. Mori bites his tongue and regrets opening his mouth in the first place.

"I ended up in Yugakure," Akimi says. "It was still a ninja village, then. I showed up, poor and young with nothing but the clothes on my back. There was an open position as a history teacher in the school, and I needed the money. So I took it."

"Huh."

"I started saving up money," Akimi recalls. "I've always wanted to run my own museum. But I knew it would take a lot of money to do it. But a few months after my arrival, the Second Shinobi World War broke out."

"... Oh." Mori can't think of anything to say to that.

"It was hard," Akimi says softly. "The school shut down because they recruited all the children to become ninja. I had to take odd jobs and share a room with seven other people for the entire duration of the war. And then the fighting came to us -- it was terrifying."

Mori closes his eyes, remembering his own experiences with war. Konoha had never become a battleground itself, but he'd  _been_ to many of those outlying villages in Fire Country. Trash and weaponry littered across the streets. Buildings burnt to the ground. He shivers involuntarily.

"War is terrifying," he agrees, his voice solemn.

Akimi falls silent, then, sinking back into her mind as she brings up old memories. Mori is quiet, too.

"...And now it's history," Akimi murmurs. "A textbook article. An old tale."

From their position, they can see Sachiko yawn and lazily stretch out, dozing in the sunshine outside. Akimi's eyes soften.

"That's why I never went back to Shimo," she confesses. "Not because of the marriage. Or the weather. I didn't want to see war. I didn't want to see ninja."

Mori nods in understanding.

"You have a hard job," Akimi says quietly. "I hope that you're up to the task."

Mori presses his lips together. He's been focusing on the mission, keeping his attention on his genin. But there's still a lot weighing on his mind: the Massacre, the Kyuubi. It's not forgotten, only pushed to the side, but this conversation only reminds him of the burden he bears.

"I hope I am, too," he says, softly enough that Akimi can't quite catch the words.

* * *

 

Day seven of their guarding is slow, slower than it was the rest of the week. The exhibit is getting ready to close, and only a couple people visit the museum. Mori almost falls asleep at his post himself, but he doesn't tell his genin anything about it.

The museum closes at 5:30 pm. As soon as the sign at the front window is flipped around, showing ‘closed’, the three genin sigh with relief and collectively slump down onto the floor -- at least until Mori says ‘it's not over yet, do you really think a closed sign would stop a thief’. 

“But  _ sensei,” _ Chie gasps out dramatically. 

“No buts,” Mori says firmly, but he's internally laughing at their exaggerated pouts and worn out faces. “We’ll have to stay until the gemstones are being shipped back, and then it's not our problem anymore.”

“And how long will that take?” Issei grumbles. 

“Faster, if we help Akimi-san put away all the stones.”

They help Akimi put away all the stones. 

Riku helps Akimi sort the gemstones into separate piles. Chie, Issei and Mori, who can't really tell all the rocks apart, are given the task of packing them into boxes, making sure they're properly stored so that they don't break. Only a few rocks remain in their cases: the raw elements and less flashy types of stones. 

“Those are the ones we own,” Akimi says. “We’ll keep them out for a couple more days, but we don't need them to be guarded.”

Working together, they finish packing the stones at around 8:00.

“It’s kind of late,” Chie says, setting down a box. They’re in the back room, stacking the boxes of stones to be ready for transportation. With all the boxes stacked up, it resembles more of a maze than anything else. “We’re not leaving right now, are we?”

“We’ll take off tomorrow morning,” Mori says. “That’s when the others come to pick up the stones anyway. Then we’ll be done.”

“Thank  _ Kami,” _ Issei mutters.

“You were the ones who wanted a C-rank,” Mori reminds them, grinning with amusement. “You want to go back to D-ranks?”

“No!” Issei and Chie almost shout.

“No more D-ranks,  _ please,” _ Riku begs, his eyes wide.

“I can’t promise you that,” Mori says. “Though you all came up with a good plan and worked together, you were distracted. Had there really  _ been _ a thief, this mission could have failed.”

All three kids look properly ashamed.

“We’ll do better next time,” Chie promises, eyes burning with determination.

“Yeah,” Riku says. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

Mori shakes his head, grinning the whole time. “Well, we’ll see.”

Sachiko, who had disappeared while they were packing up the exhibit, reappears with a broom and tray bearing five cups of tea.

“Here,” she says, handing one to her great-aunt, and then placing the tray between Mori and his genin. She smiles at them warmly. “Thanks for helping us.”’

“Thank you for the tea,” Mori responds, picking up a cup and sipping it. Riku beams at Sachiko and picks up his cup, savoring the warmth in his hands.

Sachiko nods and smiles before disappearing back into the hallways, whistling a tune as she starts to sweep the floors.

Issei takes a cup and sniffs it. He scowls and pushes it away. “Cheap.”

Mori rolls his eyes.

Chie studies hers carefully. “What flavor?”

“Sencha,” Riku answers, sipping his cup.

Chie makes a face.

“Chie!” Riku says. “Don’t be rude!”

“Sencha is too bitter,” she complains.

“Everything  _ you  _ like is too sweet,” Riku mutters.

This starts off an argument between the two genin, as they start to defend their personal taste and their favorite foods.

Issei scoots over a little closer to Mori and stares at his teammates as they argue. 

“Who’s going to watch the stones tonight?” Issei asks.

“You and Riku,” Mori answers, taking another sip of the tea. “You can handle that, I trust?”

“Of course, sensei,” Issei says.

“Good,” Mori says.

They sit there in the museum lobby for a few more minutes, all of them winding down to get ready for the night. Riku and Mori finish their tea. The air grows colder as the moon rises.

“We should get some rest,” Chie says.

Feeling tired, Mori checks the time. He squints at his watch, trying to make out the numbers. 

"It's... almost ten," he says, barely able to make out the minute and the hour hands on his watch.

Why is it so hard to read? It's not that dark, is it?

“Sensei?” Chie asks.

Mori licks his lips, which suddenly feel very dry. He glances down at the hand holding his empty teacup.

“Riku,” Issei says, getting to his feet. “We’re on guard tonight --  _ whoa, _ are you okay?”

“‘M fine,” Riku says, his eyes drooping shut. “I’m just… tired…”

Riku attempts to stand up, but trips over himself, landing on the tray. The cups clatter as they hit the floor; Chie and Issei’s untouched tea spill across the ground.

“Riku!” 

Chie hops to her feet and grabs Riku by the shoulders, hauling him up to a standing position. He manages to get to his feet, but he sways, unsteady.

Mori’s hand is shaking, his vision blurring until all he can make out is a mass of fuzzy colors.

_ Shit, _ he thinks _. Fuck. Fucking hell. _

He gets to his feet, willing himself to stay upright.

“Sensei!” Chie says, alarmed. Riku slumps over in her arms, like an empty bag.

_I didn't realize you had hired ninja._   


_Jounin usually have a specialty, don't they?_

_ I’m such an idiot! _ He curses himself. He stumbles, trying to count the boxes in the room with his blurry vision.

“The stones,” he says, leaning against one of the boxes. “The tea was drugged.”

“Drugged?” Chie yelps. 

Issei’s eyes widen. “ _ Sachiko.” _

“Sachiko?” Chie asks, horrified.

“Give me Riku,” Mori says.

Wordlessly, Chie hands over the ragdoll of a boy. He groans as he’s passed into Mori’s arms.

“Count the boxes,” Mori orders. “There should be eighteen.”

Issei and Chie look around the room.

“Seventeen, sensei,” Issei says, his eyes darkening.

“It’s the black opal,” Chie says, her eyes wide.

Mori closes his eyes, clumsily stretching out with his chakra. He’s not too fuzzy -- he can still sense Akimi in the building. Her signature is faint, though -- is that the drugs affecting his sensing skills, or is she unconscious?

He focuses even harder. Sachiko is still in the building -- but there are two others with her. He scowls.

“They’re still here,” he says, the words slurring together. “Issei, Chie -- go find them. I’ll catch up.”

Issei and Chie suddenly look very nervous.

“By -- by ourselves?” Chie asks.

“They’re thieves, not ninja,” Mori says, even though he clenches his fists in worry. “You can handle them. And I promise -- I’m  _ not _ letting anything happen to you.”

The latter half of that sentence is probably unintelligible with how thick his tongue is feeling, but Chie and Issei nod. After a moment’s pause, they rush out of the room.

“Damn it,” Mori hisses. He shakes his head, trying to clear away the fuzziness. 

He’s not dead. His stomach doesn’t hurt. The worst of the symptoms is his blurred vision and his messed up balance. If Kochiyama Akimi is unconscious, then it was probably a sleeping drug -- hopefully not lethal. Sachiko isn't a ninja; she’d calculated the dosage for a civilian instead. He was lucky. 

Carefully, he focuses his chakra inward, speeding up his heart rate. He can’t get rid of the drug completely, but he can force himself to metabolize it faster.

“Riku, how much did you drink?”

“Mine. Chie’s.”

Two cups of drugged tea. It’s a miracle Riku can even think right now. 

Riku isn’t good enough to intentionally adjust his heart rate -- best case, nothing happens, and worst case, he dies. Mori takes a deep breath , thinking of what Riku can do. 

“Okay. You know how we channel chakra to our feet to walk up walls? I need you to channel your chakra to your stomach.”

“You can --" a yawn, “you can  _ do _ that?”

“It’ll help you digest it faster,” Mori says. “It’ll make you more tired right now, but I’d rather not have to carry you back to Konoha.”

Riku nods sleepily. Mori can feel him gathering his chakra together, so he carries him over to the doorway and sets him down.

Mori closes his eyes and stretches out his chakra again. Issei and Chie are there, and so are Sachiko and the two other signatures. There probably won't be anyone else after these stones in the storage, but he's not letting his guard down again. 

Grimacing, he gathers up all the chakra he has and forms a seal. He feels the drain on his chakra immediately, but he just turns to his shadow clone and points to his student. 

“Riku. Stones.”

“Got it,” his clone says. 

Mori moves as fast as he can through the museum, turning corners and stumbling around the rooms. As he gets closer, his movements become slightly more controlled -- the adrenaline rushing through his veins fogs his mind, but gives him more control of his body. 

“Chie,  _ don’t!” _

Mori’s eyes widen in alarm. 

He sprints forward, almost crashing into a wall, and bursts into the museum lobby. One bandit is knocked out. Another is fighting with Issei.

The pedestals holding the cheaper stones are broken, the glass shattered, and a few of them knocked over onto the floor. The crate that previously held the black opal is open, with the packaging torn out and scattered across the room. Mori rubs his eyes and tries to focus on Issei’s fight.

Issei’s focus isn’t on winning, he realizes after a few moments. He’s focused on keeping the bandit away from the windows and the doorway. If Mori squints hard enough, he can almost make out a bulge in the thief’s pocket.

_ He has the stone. _

Chie, meanwhile, is engaged in a full-on battle with Sachiko, a burning rage in her eyes. Sachiko is deftly dodging all of her attacks, barely managing to stay ahead of the furious genin.

“Chie,” Issei grunts, flinging a kunai to stop the thief’s attempt at escape. “Forget her! The stone!”

Chie is oblivious to Issei’s calls as she lunges for Sachiko.

“You lied to me!” she yells, fierce and angry, and she tackles Sachiko to the ground.

Mori turns to Issei’s fight. Squinting, he pulls out a kunai and flicks it out, aiming for the thief’s knees. 

Fortunately, Issei isn’t in the way and doesn’t get hit. Unfortunately, he misses -- he can barely make out anything. The kunai flies towards the mosaic water fountain in the lobby and lobs off the spout, and water shoots into the air, spilling across the floor.

_ Oops. _

Mori scowls. He can’t trust himself with a projectile weapon right now -- his eyes are too blurry -- so he jumps into the fray, taking the thief by surprise and kicking out his knees.

The thief drops to the ground, howling in pain. Mori plants a knee on his back and digs in, wincing as his head spins with all the sudden movements.

“Sensei!” Issei yelps, eyes wide.

“Get the stone,” Mori says, barely able to see.

Issei’s blurry figure comes closer and digs through the man’s pockets before he emerges with the black opal in his hands.

“Got it,” Issei reports. Mori takes his weight off the thief’s back and kicks him in the side for good measure.

“It’s over, Sachiko,” he calls out. “Turn yourself in.”

“Damn it,” Sachiko growls. “Have to do everything  _ myself.” _

Mori swings his head around, preparing to fight -- only to stiffen in horror.

Chie swings a fist at Sachiko, full speed and full force. But despite Chie's power, Sachiko is  _ fast. _ She steps inside Chie’s guard, grabs her arm, and slams a knee into the girl’s gut.

Chie doubles over, coughing. Sachiko grabs around Chie’s arm until the girl cries out with pain.

Mori sees red.

A growl rises in his throat as he pulls out a kunai, but Sachiko laughs as she whips out her own knife, holding it to Chie’s throat.

“You really want to trust your vision right now, Mori-san?” Sachiko asks. She tightens her grip on Chie, who whimpers.

Mori clenches the hilt of his kunai. Water rains down from the broken fountain, spilling across the floor as proof of his current abilities.  _ I’m such an idiot, _ he thinks, cursing himself for the tea. 

Reluctantly, he lowers his weapon.

“I’ll cut you a deal,” Sachiko says. “Your student for the stone.”

Chie bites her lip, her eyes wide with fear. Mori screws his eyes shut, then opens them. Issei clenches the opal in his hand and looks up at Mori for guidance.

“Chie, first,” he says. 

“You think I’m an idiot?” Sachiko sneers, pressing the sharp edge of the knife to Chie's throat. She shifts it, ever so slightly, and a thin line of blood drips down Chie's neck.

Mori growls.

“Give me the stone and I’ll give you your student.”

“Why?” Issei asks her. “Why are you doing this? Isn’t Akimi-san your great-aunt?”

“Fat lot of help  _ she _ is,” Sachiko hisses. “My family is struggling to survive in Shimo, and here she is, running her own stupid-ass museum in a  _ tourist town. _ She  _ never  _ cared about my side of the family.”

_ She never went back to Shimo,  _ Mori remembers, and he closes his eyes.

“So you want to steal the stone,” Issei says.

“Congrats, brat.” Sachiko smiles without humor. Her hair sticks to her face, wet from the broken water fountain. “Now hand it over.”

Issei bites his lip. Mori takes a deep breath, opening his mouth to tell Issei what to do --

“Give it to her,” a new voice says.

Mori and Issei whip their heads around. Riku stumbles into the museum lobby, with Mori’s shadow clone helping him along.

Mori lifts an eyebrow at his clone. The clone shrugs.

“Give it to her,” Riku repeats, but Mori can tell he’s suppressing a yawn. Riku walks forward, stumbling from broken display to broken display, before he positions himself between Mori and Issei.

Riku trips over his own feet, and Issei catches him.

“I’m surprised you’re still awake,” Issei mutters.

“Listen to your friend,” Sachiko orders. “Hand it over.”

Riku twists around, staring Mori in the eyes and trying to convey a message. Mori glances over at his clone again, who puts his arms up in a seal and dispels.

A flood of memories rushes into his head. And suddenly he understands.

“Throw it to her,” he says.

Riku coughs as he twists around in Issei’s grip again. Issei’s eyes widen and he looks down at his hand, clutching the stone.

“Sachiko,” Issei says, watching the water falling through the air. “Catch.”

Issei chucks the rock across the room. Sachiko drops Chie to the ground, as she reaches out for the stone --

And then  _ screams _ .

Chie shrieks and scoots backward across the floor. Mori rushes forward, jumping in front of his student and screwing his eyes shut as the museum entrance explodes in front of them.

When the explosion dies down, there's a giant hole in the front entrance of the museum. Sachiko is knocked out on the ground outside, next to a flaming rock.

“What -- what just happened?” Chie squeaks out, her hands shaking wildly. Mori grabs her and helps her to her feet.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He rips off a chunk of his shirt and holds it up to her throat, wiping away the blood on her neck.

Chie nods, her eyes still wide with fear and confusion.

Issei smirks and holds out his hand. The black opal sits in it, safe and unharmed. 

Riku lets out a tired laugh, slumping over onto the ground. He glances over behind him at the broken displays. “Sodium… metal… explodes in water…” he pants out, closing his eyes. He yawns one last time before falling asleep completely.

Chie blinks.

Then she laughs, tears coming out of her eyes. “Riku, you absolute  _ nerd.” _

She giggles hysterically, until she slumps over in Mori's grip, crying to herself. She screws her eyes shut, but the tears still leak out, dripping down and mingling with the blood on her shirt. Mori pats her on the back and looks over to Sachiko's unconscious body.

He spits on it.

* * *

 

Giving the report to the Hokage is brief and concise. Chie, the unofficial spokesperson of team four, quietly recounts a couple of details to the Hokage, staring at the wood grain of the desk the entire time. 

“... The client declared the mission a success, but will charge Konoha 40,000 ryo for the damages,” Chie finishes, a defeated tone in her voice. She fiddles with the scarf around her neck, hiding the bandages on her throat.

Though the cut was small, she still kept it covered. In a way, Mori's glad: he doesn't want to be reminded that his student almost died on  _his_ watch.

The Hokage only nods. “I trust you understand what you need to work on?” he asks, in a quiet but firm tone that causes Chie to flinch and Issei and Riku to look down. 

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Issei and Riku mumble. Chie remains silent, though she nods her head. 

“I am glad that the mission was a success, though,” the Hokage says.

At this, Riku straightens up, and Issei smirks. Mori smiles at their expressions -- really, it wasn't  _ too _ bad of a mission. Akimi was obviously disappointed with the loss of her front door, but the black opal was safe.

It was also a great learning experience for all of them, Mori included. He'd become lax since leaving ANBU, he thinks.  _No more tea from people you don't know,_ he thinks to himself.

The Hokage opens his mouth, ready to dismiss Team Four. Mori begins to turn around, preparing to leave the office.

Suddenly, a subtle flare of chakra catches his attention. A puff of smoke on the Hokage’s desk catches his eye, where a small bird deposits a slip of paper before disappearing once more.

The Hokage unfolds the message. His eyes widen as he scans through the words, and his gaze flickers over to Mori before dropping back down to the paper. With a quick fire jutsu, he burns it, leaving nothing but ashes on his desk.

Mori frowns, feeling the beginnings of a bad feeling grow in his stomach.

The Hokage stands up.

“You are dismissed,” he says, waving them out the door.

“Thank you, Hokage-sama,” Mori responds.

The Sandaime nods, and the four leave the room, lingering out in a hallway a few feet down. 

Riku and Issei look subtly relieved that the Hokage didn’t flay them alive for an almost failure. At least until Mori opens his mouth. 

“We'll be doing D-ranks for a month or so,” he says, and the two boys visibly deflate. 

“Sensei!” Riku protests. “The only way to get better at C-ranks is to practice them!”

Issei nods in agreement. “We can handle it, sensei -- we know better now.”

“Maybe  _ you  _ guys do.”

The conversation halts as they all look over at the girl who had spoken. 

Riku frowns. “What are you talking about?”

The bad feeling in Mori’s stomach grows.  _ Oh no.  _

“It was my fault,” Chie says, her voice slowly increasing in volume. She keeps her head bent, eyes downcast as she speaks. “The only reason we didn't fail was because of Riku! And -- and it wouldn't have happened if I had just listened to Issei! I'm the one that messed up! I rushed, and I fought Sachiko even though I didn't have to, and then I _lost!_  I can’t do anything!”

She bites her lip, her eyes watering. 

_ Oh, Chie, _ Mori thinks. Was this why she was so quiet on the way home?

“Chie,” Mori says, catching her attention. She looks up at him, eyes shiny and threatening to spill over. 

Mori kneels down until he's level with her, meeting her gaze. “It was your first time out of the village. It was your first C-rank. You were nervous, you panicked, it happens. It doesn't say anything about you or what you can do.”

Chie flushes and screws her eyes shut tight. “No!” she yells. 

Riku and Issei stiffen as the tears start falling down her face. Mori reaches out a hand to place on her shoulder. 

“Chie --”

“No!” She cuts him off and slaps his arm away. “No! You guys don't understand!” She whirls around to glare at them and waves her arms in the air. “You're all talented and cool and awesome! Riku and Issei are smart, smarter than anyone in our year! Riku lives in a  _ dojo _ and is awesome at taijutsu! Issei's observant and sneaky and he came up with most of the plans on our mission for crying out loud, and he can throw kunai and shuriken better than some of the clan kids! And Mori-sensei can fight and spy and teach and everything! Even your other student is a chuunin, he's a  _ prodigy,  _ and he's just barely turned  _ eleven!” _

The words flow out of her mouth, hot and angry. Issei’s eyes are wide, his jaw clenched. Riku backs up, shrinking away from her fury. 

Mori thinks back, far back -- thinking of all the times Chie fell silent with that fierce, independent determination in her eyes. How she refused to accept help from Itachi. Her intense rivalry with Issei when they were practicing with shuriken.

Abruptly disappearing as soon as training was over, the way she threw everything she had into their training and spars. 

_ Shit,  _ Mori thinks, feeling as though someone had kicked him in the gut. What kind of sensei was he, to ignore it and just assume it was nothing? 

_ How long have you been carrying that, Chie? _

“I can't do anything! I’m not good at taijutsu, or with weapons, or ninjitsu anything! I couldn't even beat some civilian thief! I’m only good at messing up!” Chie cries out. She roughly wipes the tears from her eyes, but they keep coming. 

“Chie, that’s not true,” Riku begins, but he's cut off when Chie shouts and turns away. 

“Shut up!” she cries, and she tears down the hall and down the stairs of the Tower. 

“Chie!” Riku calls out, sprinting after her. 

Issei and Mori waste no time in following them, slipping around the people in the corridors and ignoring the annoyed looks from the guards. 

“Stupid Chie,” Issei mutters as they rush down the stairs and duck into another corridor. It's quiet, probably not meant for Mori to overhear, especially in the chaos of the chase, but Mori hears it nonetheless. 

Mori shoots him a sharp look, but before he can reprimand Issei, the boy continues his grumbling. 

“We're a  _ team,  _ loudmouth, you don't  _ have _ to be good at everything,” Issei finishes his complaining, oblivious to Mori’s ability to hear him. 

Despite the situation, Mori feels a bit of pride. Issei cares for his teammates after all. 

They burst out of the Hokage Tower and onto the streets of Konoha.  Mori catches a glimpse of Riku and Chie running off to their left, and he takes a step forward to follow them.

And suddenly a scream sounds throughout the streets.

“ _ MORI!” _

He freezes.

Yuko’s clear voice rings through his ears, the panic and desperation in her shout dragging him back to a burning forest long ago, and  _ fuck the Kyuubi why isn’t it over why doesn’t it end -- _

“Sensei!”

Mori blinks again, choking on air as he tries to breathe. The flames are gone. Issei is gripping his vest, tugging.

He grips his chest, muscles tense. He hadn’t thought of Yuko’s death for a long time. He hadn’t heard such a desperate scream in  _ years _ .

“Mori-sensei?”

He forces himself to breathe, to calm down, but then a sudden hand grips his arm. Mori whirls around in defensive instinct, but even before he can do anything else, Yuko is standing in front of him, her hair messy and her face flushed with exertion. But it's her eyes that catch his attention, white eyes wide with panic and worry and concern.

His stomach flips and the bad feeling in his stomach increases tenfold.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, gripping her by the shoulders, and suddenly he becomes too aware of her trembling beneath his grip. 

“Izo’s back,” Yuko says, and Mori can't help the flash of hope that flickers in his chest. 

“He’s back?” Mori asks, sucking in a breath.

“He’s -- it’s -- it’s not good,” Yuko manages to stammer out, her eyes wide, She bites her lip and clenches her fists, and suddenly Mori becomes aware of the red on the edges of her sleeves, the smeared blood on her palms.

His breath hitches.

“He’s in the hospital,” Yuko says. “And he’s not okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOMEBODY PROTECT THESE CHILDREN. When will the fluff return from war?
> 
> Some notes: we get some Team Four bonding! And some Team Four angst! Chie's deal is finally revealed! Haha, in case you haven't been able to tell, I've planned this all out since the beginning! (That is a lie, i've only planned out some of this since the beginning lol)
> 
> Also, Izo's back (or IS he?) 
> 
> This mission was fun to plan, but really hard to write. It's one of those things where I feel like a genius for coming up with the concept and stuff, but I have no idea if it translated well. I don't know, maybe I'll edit it some more? Feedback is appreciated!
> 
> Also worth note: I'm actually really far into the next chapter, so you'll probably see that this weekend! Then we'll go back to our ~~irregular~~ schedule of updates whenever I finish something!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	13. The Massacre, Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything happens at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grins*

“In the _hospital?”_ Mori demands.

“He showed up about two hours ago,” Yuko says. “I was with my team near the gates, and then there was shouting and I could smell his _blood --_ ”

“He’s alive, though, right?” Mori asks, pleading and desperate.

“Yeah,” Yuko nods, biting her lip. “It’s -- well. We got him to the hospital, but he’s got a nasty infection on his arm and was spouting nonsense about trees or something…”

“What about now?”

“He's still in surgery,” Yuko says.

There's a million reasons for a ninja returning from a mission three months late to be in surgery, and none of them are good.

 _He’s not okay,_ Yuko’s voice rings through his head.

He thinks of Kenji and his father, of how Izo took care of them the night of the Kyuubi attack. He thinks of Izo staying by his side while he and Aya were fighting, of him treating him to ramen after his promotion to jounin, of his stupid jokes and bets and sarcastic commentary.

_He’s not okay._

“I should --” Mori pauses and cuts himself off.

Issei is still standing with them, watching their conversation. Mori glances over in the direction Chie and Riku ran off.

“Go,” Issei says, interpreting the indecision on Mori’s face. “It's okay. I'll find them. We're a team.”

Mori hesitates.

“Sensei,” Issei says firmly. There’s a hard expression in his eyes, a rare glimpse of the ninja and leader Issei has the potential to be. And though Mori knows he's never taught or even _known_ Issei in his previous timeline, the image of his student as an older ninja flashes through his mind, firm and strong and commanding. A leader.

Mori blinks, the image disappearing as soon as it pops into his head, and he's left staring at a twelve-year-old boy.

And he trusts him.

“ _Go.”_

Mori goes.

He and Yuko take to the rooftops and make their way to the hospital. Back in front of the Hokage’s tower, Issei runs off after Chie and Riku.

For now, all Mori can do is hope that everything will turn out alright.

* * *

 

Aya is there, as well as Izo’s mother and a few other people who wait for new from their loved ones. The waiting room is mostly empty, but it feels too crowded for Mori’s taste. It smells like disinfectant and death. It takes a few minutes before Mori stops feeling like he'll throw up, either from the smell or the stress.

Izo’s mother sniffles softly in her seat. Yuko’s hands twitch. She keeps glancing at Mori, as if afraid he’s going to break down.

Mori’s leg bounces up and down. The vending machine down the hall sounds with an incessant hum, buzzing in the back of his mind.

If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost smell Izo’s blood drifting in from the other room. He gags on the smell and starts counting the floor tiles to keep himself distracted.

“... How was your mission?” Aya asks quietly, breaking the tense silence.

Mori is quiet for a second, then two. He chews on his lip.

“It was successful,” he replies. “But my team blew up our client’s wall.”

Aya chuckles without humor. “Something always happens on a team’s first C-rank.”

“Yeah,” Mori says.

“They're all okay?” Aya asks.

An image of Chie flashes through his head, followed by a stab of guilt.

 _I should be there with them,_ Mori thinks numbly. _But…_

“They're safe,” Mori says aloud, and he winces.

What if Issei couldn't find Chie and Riku? What if they’re all fighting right now? What if months and months of bonding and teamwork are wasted because he wasn't there when his team needed him most?

 _Go,_ a voice in his head urges. _You're a sensei. Act like one._

He forces himself to his feet.

Yuko blinks. “Mori?”

He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. “I should… I need to --”

The door to the waiting room opens, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. A nurse steps out, and everyone looks up expectantly.

“Family of Nara Izo?” He asks.

Izo’s mother stands up and all but runs over to the nurse.

“My son,” she says quickly. “Is he okay?”

“The surgery went well,” the nurse says, and Team Fourteen lets out a collective, relieved sigh.

 _Thank God,_ Mori thinks.

“He's awake,” the nurse says.

“Can I see him?” Izo’s mother pleads.

“Soon,” the nurse promises. “Hokage-sama is meeting with him right now, but they should be wrapping up in a few minutes.”

“The Hokage?” Aya mutters. “Reporting just after surgery?”

Mori blinks.

An image flashes through his brain. A puff of smoke, a bird, a message. He remembers the Hokage glancing over at him briefly, while reading the message.

 _Was that message about Izo?_ Mori wonders.

“Must have been a big mission,” Yuko murmurs.

 _Must have,_ Mori silently agrees. Izo’s a talented jounin, both now and in Mori’s past. He's stealth and shadows; he deals with information much like Mori does, though he's much more indirect about it. It occurs to Mori that Izo would be much better at digging through the Konoha Archives than he, but he can't exactly enlist his help in his self-appointed mission to stop the Massacre.

It also occurs to Mori that he doesn't know what Izo’s mission was about. Or any of Izo’s missions, really -- he can't think of the last time Izo shared anything about his status as a jounin of Konoha.

 _ANBU,_ he realizes. Izo doesn’t talk about his missions. Izo has to report directly to the Hokage while in the hospital.  Izo’s in _ANBU._

The thought doesn’t bring him any reassurance. That fact that Izo is alive and in Konoha right now is a _miracle._

An ANBU mission gone wrong… being _three months late._ Izo’s been stuck in whatever hellhole he was assigned to for _at least three months._

Mori’s hands curl into tight fists.

“I need a drink,” he says out loud. “From the vending machines.”

Yuko frowns at his specific wording, but Aya just tosses him a few coins.

“Get me an orange soda,” she says.

Mori nods before slipping down the hospital hallways.

He takes a right at the first turn he reaches. As he strolls down the hall, he passes the pair of vending machines as he makes his way toward the stairwell.

Left, then right, and then up the stairs. If he knows the layout of the hospital as well as he thinks he does, they should be…

_Here._

Eavesdropping on a private conversation with the Hokage usually isn’t even on the radar on Mori’s mental list of ‘things he should do’, but right now, he can’t help but wonder what sort of hell Izo’s been through for the past three months.

Maybe he shouldn’t know. But the morbid curiosity is already settled in; he has to find out.

Mori sits down on a lone chair in the hallway, just outside a quiet hospital room. He closes his eyes and stretches out his chakra, quickly catching the void of chakra a floor beneath him.

The thing about privacy seals is that, unless they're really well done, they're rather easy to detect. Privacy seals prevent anything from getting out -- sounds, images, and chakra. True seal masters can make sound barriers that are virtually undetectable, even to skilled sensors, but most privacy seals leave a gap in the environment of chakra, an empty space giving away their location.

It's usually not that helpful if you want to listen in on a conversation, but Mori wasn't a Konoha spy for nothing.

Most privacy seals are focused on the walls, expecting eavesdroppers to be level with the conversation. Mori doesn't doubt that the Hokage is aware of that, but he also knows that this particular barrier is a) temporary, and b) erected very quickly, in the thirty minutes between when the Hokage received that message in his office and now. The Hokage is smart and strong, but he's no fuuinjutsu master. Though Mori only knows the basics of sealing, it's his _job_ to eavesdrop -- he's dealt with this type of situation before.

Mori, a floor above, sets his foot down on the floor extends out an almost imperceptible tendril of chakra out through his feet. He closes his eyes and guides it through the floor, circling the voided room until he spots a small gap in the sound barrier.

Eyes flashing open, he slips into a hospital room a few feet down, ducking in. There’s only one patient inside, sleeping, and no nurses in sight. Mori closes the door behind him.

Quietly, Mori stands on top of the gap in the seal barrier beneath him. He kneels down, setting his ear on the floor -- and then channels chakra to his ears.

Immediately, he’s assaulted by the hums of the hospital machines and the rattled breathing of the patient. Mori steadies his own breathing and _focuses,_ willing himself to pick out only the sounds coming from the floor below.

“... can’t,” Izo is saying. “It won't let me.”

Even though Mori can barely make out the words due to the thickness of the floor and the interference of the privacy seals, the sound of his friend’s voice makes him want to cry in relief. He's _alive._ He's _back._

“Nothing… all?” The Sandaime asks.

“...told everything I could,” Izo says quietly, weakly. “...sorry, Hokage-sama. The seal…”

He can't make out every word. There are parts too quiet for him to understand; the best he can do is try to fill in the gaps.

“I understand,” the Sandaime replies. “... Call my student back… Possible, perhaps he can undo it.”

“I can confirm…” Izo says, the end of the sentence too quiet for Mori to catch.

The Sandaime sighs. “... I gathered as much… didn't return.”

Izo says something else that Mori can’t catch, almost hesitantly. Then -- “I didn't think that he’d go that far…”

The conversation falls off. Mori strains his hearing, but apparently they aren't saying anything anymore.

He waits a few more beats, almost getting ready to get up and leave, when something else is said down below.

“He's…” Izo trails off, as if considering his words. “There's a clan… He’s interested.”

“A clan?” The Hokage asks. “Konoha?”

A pause.

“The Yamanaka? The Hyuuga? The Uchiha?”

Mori sucks in a breath at the mention of Itachi’s clan. He presses his lips together, thinking of the eleven-year-old boy caught in a mess far more delicate and complex than Mori’s ever dreamed.

Another pause in the conversation.

“I see,” the Hokage says, and his voice sounds troubled. “I had hoped… doesn’t bode well…”

“Hokage-sama?”

“Not of your concern, Nara-San,” the Hokage says. There's a quiet moment before Mori hears the faint sounds of someone getting to their feet. “That is all. Thank you, Nara-San. You've earned some rest.”

* * *

 

Mori returns to the waiting room with a bottle of fruit punch and Aya’s orange soda. He hands it to her, and she lifts an eyebrow, no doubt wondering why he took so long. She doesn't say anything, though.

Mori turns away, letting her come to her own conclusions.

“Izo’s mom is meeting with him right now,” Yuko says. “The doctor says we can see him afterward, but only for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Mori says.

 _I can stay for that long,_ he thinks to himself.

He settles down in one of the chairs and opens up his fruit punch. The taste is tangy and sweet, the sugar waking him up after everything else that's weighing him down.

As he sips, he goes over the conversation he heard in his head.

 _I can confirm,_ Izo's voice says.

So he was on a scouting mission most likely. Something ‘straightforward’. But then something went wrong -- perhaps he got caught?

Mori shivers at the thought. _Caught by the enemy,_ he thinks. _He's lucky to be alive._

Mori’s had many close calls on his missions in the past -- as a jounin, as an ANBU. But he's never been captured before. Sometimes he thinks that would be worse than dying.

Then there's that tail end of the conversation. Someone is interested in one of Konoha’s clans. If Mori’s interpreting the conversation right, they're interested in the _Uchiha._

 _Is that who’s been coming up with all those policies?_ Mori wonders. How deep does the conspiracy _go?_

Thinking about the Massacre only gives Mori a headache; the weight of trying to prevent a coup and possibly another war is _heavy._ The more and more Mori hears, the more he can understand why the plug was pulled on the Uchiha. It's almost easier to make the problem disappear than it is to actually try and fix it.

He wonders how Itachi is doing, if he's even in Konoha at the moment.

The door to the waiting room opens once more, and Izo’s mother is escorted out, tears in her eyes but a relieved smile on her face.

“Can we visit him?” Mori asks, his voice cracking.

The nurse studies their hopeful expressions and sighs. “For a few minutes --”

Aya, Yuko, and Mori get to their feet and nearly knock over the nurse to get to their friend.

“Izo!” Mori calls out, bursting into the hospital room and immediately landing his eyes on the Nara.

“Hey,” Izo says, a weak grin on his lips as he lifts up his left hand in greeting.

His _left_ hand, Mori notes, and he stares at his friend.

Because Izo is right-handed. But where his right hand _should_ be is nothing but empty air.

Behind him, Aya sucks in a breath as Yuko bites her lip.

His right arm is wrapped in bandages and ends at the elbow, a strange sight to Mori’s eyes. _Amputated,_ he thinks, and he remembers Yuko’s quick description -- _he's got a nasty infection on his arm._

Losing an arm can end an entire ninja’s career. Mori tears his eyes away from the injury to look at Izo’s face, and judging by the haunted look in his eyes, Izo knows it, too.

“You _asshole,”_ Mori manages to get out, and he moves forward to stand next to Izo’s bed. “Straightforward mission, my _ass.”_

“What can I say?” Izo banters back, though Mori can hear the strain in his voice. “I got a little careless.”

The stupid comment makes Mori’s eyes well up with tears. “Damn it, Nara,” he chokes out. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Izo!” Aya says, tearing her eyes away from his arm and rushing to his bedside. “I'm glad you're alive, buddy. Mori’s so sulky when you're not around.”

“Is that so?” Izo lifts an eyebrow.

Mori snorts. “As _if.”_

Yuko walks calmly up and scrutinizes Izo, taking in every scratch and cut and bruise on his body. Her eyes linger on his missing arm for a second too long, and Izo looks down at it, his smile dimming.

“Careless,” he repeats. His mouth is dry, and he licks his lips uncomfortably. His right shoulder twitches, like he's trying to move the arm that isn't there anymore.

No one asks for an explanation.

“How’s Konoha doing?” Izo asks, changing the subject.

Aya latches onto the question with a sort of relieved zeal, filling Izo in. She talks about how Ichiraku’s has a new ramen flavor, how the hot springs had to be rebuilt because an older genin got a little too trigger happy with a fire jutsu. Aya’s familiar babble is comforting, a much needed anchor to keep them all focused on the here and now.

Yuko doesn’t say much, as usual, only chiming in for sarcastic commentary or additional details in Aya’s account of Konoha. Izo and Mori, though, remain silent.

While Aya and Yuko talk, Mori tries to catch Izo’s eyes. But the Nara’s gaze is firmly fixed upon the sheets of his hospital bed.

_I didn't think he'd go that far._

Who was he talking about? _What_ was he talking about?

Mori doesn't know what mission Izo had, but he spent two years in ANBU. ANBU missions were bad enough; he can't begin to imagine being caught by the enemy on a high-stakes mission like that.

The doctor walks in a few moments later, saying that Izo needs rest and politely asks them to get out.

Yuko nods at Izo; Aya squeezes his left hand. They get up and leave, but Mori lingers for a moment more.

“Izo…” He can't think of anything to say. What do you say to someone who’s probably been through hell for four months, lost a limb, and probably his ninja career?

“Mori,” Izo says, his voice quiet. He looks nervous, a far cry from the sarcastic, laid-back jounin Mori’s gotten to know over the years. “Can I cash in my favor?”

It takes a moment for Mori to recall which particular favor this is. He thinks back to Aya’s birthday -- so long ago -- and remembers betting on who would win between Aya and Yuko in their spar.

He wants to say that there’s no need to use a favor at a time like this, but Mori gets the feeling that Izo needs some normalcy. “Of course.”

Izo still doesn’t meet his eyes, only stares out the hospital window with a haunted gaze.

It’s mid-afternoon, but the sun is still rather high in the sky. Too sunny and bright for all the shit that’s happening right now.

“Can you… Can you come by later? Around sundown?” Izo asks, sounding very small. “Just… I don’t…”

 _I don't want to be alone,_ is what Mori hears.

He glances up at the doctor, a silent question in his eyes. The doctor shrugs and nods -- there’s nothing wrong with the request, it seems.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he answers.

“Thanks,” Izo says. Mori notes the way his remaining hand clenches the sheets of the hospital bed.

“No problem, Izo,” Mori says. “I'll see you later, then.”

“Yeah,” Izo replies, almost distractedly.

The doctor shoos Mori out the door, and Mori slowly walks down the hallways of the hospital, replaying the reunion in his mind.

 _I hope he'll be fine,_ Mori thinks. He exits the hospital and stares at the streets for a while, a million thoughts running through his mind.

And then suddenly --

“Chie,” he says aloud, his eyes widening, and he shunshins off in the direction of Training Ground Twelve.

* * *

 

He’s lucky enough that they're all there, sitting down by the treeline. Chie’s hugging her knees, curled up underneath one of the trees. Issei and Riku sit on either side of her, silent.

 _Issei found them,_ Mori thinks with relief. It's not a surprise that the first place they all think to go is to their training grounds, and he's glad that he doesn't have to tear through all of Konoha to find his genin.

He takes note of their body language, their expressions.

Issei's a strange cross between concerned and uncomfortable. He's worried, but awkward -- not the type for emotions confrontations like this. But he's trying, though, and it fills Mori's chest with pride.

Riku’s shoulder is pressed against Chie’s, giving her the option to lean on him, if she wanted to. He keeps glancing over at Chie, as if afraid she's going to bolt again. Other than that, though, he's motionless.

He can't see Chie’s face from here, hidden in her arms as it is, but he can see the way her hands are lightly clasped around her knees, limp and drained. Every once in awhile, her shoulders shake, her breathing irregular. She's been crying.

There's something different in the air around them. Not necessarily bad, but it's not really that good either.

Mori slows down to a steady walk as he approaches them, purposely snapping a twig to announce his arrival.

All three of their heads snap up as he walks closer, but Chie averts her gaze just as quickly. Mori winces.

 _I should've come sooner,_ he thinks. _Why didn't I come sooner?_

When he arrives, he doesn't say anything either, as he sets himself down next to Riku and sits quietly with his team.

“... Is your friend okay?” Issei asks, for once being the one to break the silence.

“Yes,” Mori replies, trying not to think too hard about Izo and his arm and the haunted look in his eyes. “Thank you for asking. Do you two boys mind if I talk to Chie alone?”

Chie visibly flinches at that, which only makes Mori feel worse. Issei gets to his feet, following his sensei’s request without a second thought. Riku, though, takes his time getting up -- glancing worriedly between Chie and Mori, hands fidgeting.

“Um, same time for training tomorrow?” Issei asks, when it becomes clear that no one else is going to say anything.

“No,” Mori says. “You've had a long mission -- you can have tomorrow off.”

“Oh,” Issei says lamely, painfully uncomfortable with his new position as the most talkative member of Team Four. “Okay. Um. See you later, Mori-sensei, Chie.”

Chie nods sullenly.

Riku stares at her, concern in his eyes.

“Bye, Chie,” he says, unable to think of anything else to say.

She nods, still not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Riku and Issei leave the grounds together. Out of the corner of his eye, Mori can see Riku lingering by the edge of the grounds until Issei says something to him. They appear to have a quick argument before Riku nods, resigned, and they walk out of sight.

“I'm not mad,” Mori starts off with, and then winces, because that only makes it seem worse.

“I know,” Chie says.

“You know… We wouldn't be Team Four without you,” Mori says.

“No, we wouldn't,” Chie agrees, still in that quiet, resigned tone.

 _Damn it, Chie,_ Mori thinks. _I'm trying to help you here!_

He doesn't know which buttons to press, which ones to avoid. Team Four had been smooth sailing this whole time; this is entirely new territory and Mori is _intensely_ uncomfortable with it. He wishes he could ask Yuko or Aya for advice.

 _But you did,_ a voice in his head whispers. _And you ignored it._

Yuko’s cold words ring through his head. _I hope you weren't ignoring your team the way you ignored me and Aya._

Mori takes a deep breath, berating himself for ignoring the Hokage and getting obsessed with the Massacre. He should have seen this coming.

In the end, the only thing he knows how to do is apologize.

“I'm sorry,” Mori says.

For the first time, Chie meets his eyes.

“I've been distracted,” Mori says honestly, thinking of Itachi and Izo and the Massacre. “I should have been spending more of my energy on our team; I thought there were other things more important than Team Four. I was wrong.”

Chie remains silent.

“I should have realized something was bothering you,” Mori says. “And I should have been here, earlier. I…” He laughs slightly, self-deprecating. “I haven't been a very good sensei, lately. I'm sorry, Chie.”

Chie turns her gaze away after that and stares out at the trees. “It's okay,” she said. “I understand.”

“You’re talented,” Mori tells her, praying that she can hear the truth behind his words. He thinks of her progress during spars and of her position as the spokesperson of Team Four. He thinks of the way she speaks, clear and confident, charismatic. How easily she can slip in and out of conversations, how she sets people at ease.

“You've got a knack with people and a silver tongue,” Mori says. “That's one of the most powerful weapons a ninja can have, you know? I’m _proud_ of you.”

The words are sincere: Team Four and Chie have come _such_ a long way since that first day. But it’s not enough. Mori can’t piece together the words he needs to show Chie how much she truly matters.

Chie looks up at him. Her hands fiddle with the edges of her scarf wrapped around her neck, and no doubt she’s replaying her encounter with Sachiko in the museum in her head. Mori's eyes darken as he remembers the line of blood running across her throat.

 _I'm so_ sorry, he thinks.  _Chie, I am so, so sorry._

“Thanks, sensei,” she says, after a pause.

There's none of the familiar hero worship in her eyes, none of the admiration that Mori’s grown accustomed to seeing from the young girl. Just insecurity.

 _Thanks for the sentiment,_ is what he hears. _But it doesn't really help._

When Chie gets to her feet and bids him goodbye, he doesn't stop her.

* * *

 

Izo’s nurse remembers him and escorts him to Izo’s room without needing an explanation.

“He's fine,” the nurse says. “There doesn't seem to be any dangers of infection, though we'll have to keep him a few more days to be sure.”

“And I can stay?”

“It's probably for the better,” the nurse admits. “We haven't had a psych evaluation yet; the doctor wanted to wait until he's discharged. With a familiar face he might calm down --”

“Calm down?” Mori asks, alarmed.

“It's nothing extreme!” The nurse reassures him. “The shadows have been fluctuating in that room; one of our nurses almost got trapped in his jutsu. It's not a full-blown panic or anything… well, not _yet,_ anyway...”

 _What did they_ do _to you?_ Mori thinks in horror.

They reach Izo’s hospital room. The nurse knocks softly on the door, announcing their presence.

“You have a visitor,” she says, opening the door slowly and widely, not making any sudden movements, so that Mori can step into the room.

“Mori,” Izo says, gripping his sheets with his lone hand.

“Hey,” Mori greets him. “I'm here.”

The nurse gives a few last minute instructions (if he acts strangely in _any_ way, hit the button on the bed and we'll be there) before stepping out of the room.

The window is closed, Mori notes, with the blinds drawn. The lights in the room are bright, casting small but harsh shadows around the corners.

“Thank you,” Izo says.

“You're welcome,” Mori replies, sitting down in a chair by the side of the room.

There's a pause. They don't speak; they don't know what to say.

“You were quiet, earlier,” Izo says suddenly. “How's your team doing?”

Mori winces. “Perceptive as always,” he mutters. “It's… Um. Rocky.”

Izo lifts an eyebrow.

“We just came back from our first C-rank,” Mori says. “Didn't turn out too well.”

“But they're all okay?” Izo asks.

“They’re safe and relatively unharmed, yeah.”

“You should -- you need to keep an eye on them,” Izo urges.

Mori winces again, the words reminding him of his failure as a sensei. “Yeah. I know.”

“No,” Izo says quickly, his voice gradually rising in volume. “Keep an eye on them. There's --” Izo stiffens up and freezes.

Mori’s eyes widen, and he gets to his feet. “Izo?”

The moment passes. Izo breathes hard, biting his tongue. “... I’m fine,” he grits out, and he slumps back into his bed.

Mori is hesitant as he carefully picks out his next few words. “Do you… Do you wanna talk about it?”

Izo looks almost stricken for a moment. Then he lets out a hollow chuckle and shakes his head.

“I can't,” he says quietly, so softly Mori can barely catch the words.

“Maybe later then.”

“Yeah,” Izo says. “Maybe later.”

Mori tells Izo little tidbits about what happened while he was gone, short stories and little pieces of news. Izo nods and takes it all in, occasionally coming in with a few comments of his own. But as time goes on, Mori notes that Izo is getting more and more uneasy. His eyes dart around the room, searching every corner and every inch for danger. Every so often, his right arm twitches to reach for a weapon, only for him to look down, startled, at his missing limb.

Mori’s eyes darken with anger every time. Someone hurt his friend, made it so Izo jumps at every little sound, so that he can't relax even within a hospital with a familiar face by his side.

Mori keeps his expression neutral and his voice level, but inside he's seething, even as he talks about all the shenanigans his team plays, about Aya and Yuko going overboard with their spars, about Iruka and his stories about the Academy.

He’s in the middle of telling Izo another story about Itachi interacting with his team when Izo suddenly yawns, long and tired. Mori's eyes widen marginally, and he starts to apologize.

“Sorry,” he says. “I should go, it's getting late --”

“No!” Izo gasps out, panicked. Then he flinches, looking mildly embarrassed. “Um, please.”

Mori stares at him for a second before he nods.

Izo visibly relaxes at that, though he doesn't fully drop his guard.

He smiles weakly, breathing out a portion of the tension in his shoulders. Mori presses his lips together, trying to think of another story to tell.

Nodding to himself, Mori opens his mouth, ready to speak.

And then the lights go out.

* * *

 

With the blinds drawn, it's almost pitch black in the hospital room. Mori can barely make out Izo sitting on the bed, and his eyes widen as he watches Izo freeze.

 _“Fuck,”_ Izo chokes out. “No, no, no, not again --”

“Izo?” He asks, trying to adjust his eyes to the light.

Izo curls up, hiding his face in his hands. “No, no, _please --_ “ he chokes out, trembling.  _"Don't --"_

“Izo,” Mori says, getting to his feet and warily take a step forward. He does his best to stay in full sight, though with the lights out it’s probably not working too well. “It's me. It's Mori. Breathe with me.”

Izo takes a couple shaky breaths before he looks up, terrified. "...Mori?”

“It’s okay,” Mori says quietly, calmly. “We’re in the hospital. You're safe --”

_“No!”_

Izo’s chakra flares, and the shadows in the corner of the room burst out and spread. Mori is frozen, rooted to the spot as Izo’s chakra causes the shadows to fluctuate. He’s stuck in a half step forward, maybe two feet away from Izo’s hospital bed.

 _Stay calm,_ Mori thinks to himself, and he takes a deep breath, gathering up his chakra. The button the nurse told him to press is just out of reach. He's not sure if it would work in the middle of a blackout, but it's something. Maybe he can knock Izo out with a wave of chakra; unfreeze just long enough to get help --

“Fuck,” he hears Izo choke out. His eyes aren't fixed on Mori, looking off to a spot a few inches to Mori's left. _“Fuck.”_

The floorboards behind Mori creak, and the hair on the back of his neck rises.

_Oh, shit._

Izo lifts up his arm, and Mori suddenly stumbles -- he’s unfrozen. As he falls forward, he feels something swipe at his hair, missing him by less than an inch.

He rolls as he hits the ground, narrowly avoiding another strike. He whirls around, on his feet and ready to go, and catches sight of his opponent. They're wielding two swords, steel and sharp. Mori grits his teeth, feeling his heart pound in his chest.

 _Defend Izo. Get the enemy out of the hospital,_ Mori thinks, eyes darting around the room.

“Nara-san,” the figure intones, emotionless and cold.

“No,” Izo pants out, gasping for breath. “No!”

The figure steps forward. In the darkness, Mori can faintly recognize the distinctive patterns of an ANBU mask.

An _ANBU_ mask?

An image of the ANBU in the archives flickers across Mori’s mind. His eyes widen.

The not-ANBU lifts up their swords, high above Izo. Mori throws all thought out the window and lunges, tackling their legs. Izo shouts something, but Mori’s focused on the fight.

The not-ANBU attacks, swinging at Mori with wickedly sharp swords. Mori ducks and rolls, keeping just out of range of their attacks, but careful to remain in between the attacker and Izo.

_What are my options?_

He can’t use any Katon jutsu: this is a hospital room. He doesn’t know how much oxygen is in this room, but he’s not willing to risk it: plus, lighting the room on fire would be detrimental to Izo’s health.

Really, any of the ninjutsu in his repertoire would be detrimental to Izo’s health. Mori thinks of using a kunai, but the shorter blade doesn’t do much against the reach of two katanas.

 _I need to lead him to the window,_ Mori thinks. _Take the fight outside._

He ducks under another swing of a sword and grabs the ANBU by the shoulders, and flips backward, hoping to fling his opponent out the window and into a better fighting environment.

They catch themselves mid-air, using chakra to stick to the wall, before springing forward, sword aimed for Mori’s chest.

He barely manages to get out of the way, the strike slicing open his left arm. Mori scowls and aims a kick at the attacker’s elbow.

They drop one of their swords. Mori kicks it out of the way, ignoring it as it skids underneath Izo’s hospital bed. The not-ANBU smoothly transitions into a single-bladed fighting style, not missing a beat.

Mori does his best, but it's been a long time since he's fought an opponent of this caliber. It's all he can do to avoid getting sliced to ribbons. He can feel himself tiring, feel his breath growing more and more shallow. His movements grow slower, more sloppy. Mori grinds his teeth together and pushes himself harder.

It's not enough.

The not-ANBU sidesteps one of Mori’s punches. Instead of turning to fight him, they dart forward.

Mori’s eyes widen as he jerks his head around -- just in time to see Izo run through with a sword. The attacker pulls out the blade from the bed, a thick red liquid dripping from the tip, and the coppery scent suffocates Mori’s lungs.

“No,” he gasps out.

Desperately, he lunges toward them, praying that Izo is somehow still alive. The ANBU whirls around just as Mori reaches them -- and then suddenly, there's a sword sticking out between his ribs.

Mori coughs. Blood comes out of his mouth and splatters across the not-ANBU’s mask. There is no reaction as they slide the sword out of Mori’s chest.

 _Ow,_ he thinks, swaying on his unsteady feet. His chest burns with pain and his jaw is clenched.

 _Shit,_ he thinks, stumbling. He feels the blood dripping out of his mouth, feels himself growing weaker.

The floorboards creak again as the attacker leaves the room. Mori coughs, watery and weak.

His head throbs as images flicker across his mind. _His team. Aya. Yuko. Attending two funerals._

Mori’s eyes flutter closed.

 _About time,_ something whispers in his head.

Mori feels himself falling forward -- and then suddenly his chest is on fire.

 

_I'm surprised you lasted this long._

 

He screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Mori. I say that a lot, but it applies to a lot of the stuff that happens to him, poor man.
> 
> (no, this isn't the end.)
> 
> Feedback is appreciated, as always :D


	14. The Massacre, Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change of pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on the last chapter! You guys rock!

He claws at his chest, trying to grasp at his pain. Distantly, he hears someone calling his name, but he can't think past the pain dancing across his chest.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, dropping to the ground.

“Mori?!”

Mori grips his chest tight, attempting to breathe through the pain. _Shit, fuck, fucking hell --_

“Mori!”

Someone reaches for him. Mori panics and swings his arm out, slapping away whoever it was. His heart pounds, his head throbbing. Every inch of his skin _burns._ Hissing, Mori curls up, cradling his chest.

“Mori, Mori, it’s me --”

The familiar voice hums in his ears, mingling with the sounds of his rushing blood and the high-pitched ringing. His eyes sting and burn. He can't see.

Someone hauls him up to his feet and turns him around, gripping him at both shoulders. Mori hisses and screws his eyes shut, grimacing as the skin on his chest is jostled around.

“Mori,” The voice says slowly. “Where does it hurt?”

Mori opens his mouth. _Everywhere,_ he wants to say. _What the hell does it look like?_

He cuts off, struck by a sudden bout of nausea. He sways on his feet, barely aware of the person holding him steady.

Images dance across his sight. _The faint outline of an ANBU in the dark. Izo, panicked and shaking with fear. A bloodied sword, stabbing into his friend --_

_He lunges forward, but then suddenly there’s a blade sticking out of his chest --_

“Move,” Mori gasps out, shoving the person’s arms away. He stumbles forward, doubles over and throws up on the side of the street.

“Mori!” Someone cries out, alarmed.

Mori’s head throbs, the blood rushing in his ears. For a split second, his senses _sharpen --_ and suddenly every detail around him is crystal clear. He hears the footsteps of passerby, heartbeats pounding in his head; he can see every individual crack on the ground beneath him, feel the sweat dripping down his aching head, the rub of his vest on his shoulders. He blinks, and the clarity passes, leaving him panting on the ground, trying to breathe.

He feels the person grab him by shoulders. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No!” Mori yells, half-crazed, and he shakes their grip off. He falls back onto his knees and hunches over, biting his lip so hard it bleeds, as his chest continues to burn. He breathes in, sharp and painful, and grimaces.

“You’re _clearly_ not okay,” the person says, part exasperation and part worry. “I'm taking you --”

“ _No hospitals,”_ Mori gasps out. His head spins. Is he on a street right now?

 _I need to get out of here._ Barely aware of his own actions, he forms a hand seal and calls on his chakra.

“Mori, don’t you _dare --”_

Mori _shunshins_ away, reappearing a split second later in front of his apartment building. It's dark, but he stumbles in, clumsily making his way up the stairs to his second-floor apartment.

 _Ow,_ he chants in his head. Every step is a nightmare. It feels like he’s burning from the inside out, his insides crumbling to ashes. _Ow, ow, ow._

He clutches his chest protectively, cradling the pain and guarding the seal on his skin.

He barely manages to unlock his door when he finally succumbs to the pain, dropping to the floor. Mori screws his eyes shut and curses under his breath.

“Goddamn -- fucking -- _Kyuubi,”_ he grits out. “Rot in motherfucking _hell,_ you furry _bastard --”_

Footsteps pound up the stairs behind him.

“Mori!”

“No hospitals,” Mori grits out. He twists around and squints at the figure.

And his eyes widen in shock.

“Fine, no hospitals,” Izo says, half sarcastic and half panicked. He rushes forward.

Mori doesn't say anything, just stares at his friend -- _alive,_ breathing, with _two healthy arms_ by his side.

Izo grabs Mori and flips him over, and starts to pull of Mori’s vest. “Where does it hurt?”

 _“Don’t,”_ Mori hisses, catching Izo’s wrist.

“Look, it’s me or a hospital, okay?” Izo snaps. “You’re writhing in pain and you’re not thinking straight, you don’t _get_ to be troublesome right now.”

 _“Nara,”_ Mori says, gripping Izo’s wrist. _Don’t,_ he pleads silently, thinking of the angry burns on his chest, of the Kyuubi’s seal.

“Now’s not the time for your goddamn modesty,” Izo says, pushing Mori’s weak grip aside. He tosses Mori’s chuunin vest aside and pulls down Mori’s undershirt. “You’ve been clutching your chest for _years,_ I’m pretty sure you have -- what the hell is _that?!”_

 _Shit,_ Mori thinks.

Izo’s staring wide-eyed at his chest, at the Kyuubi’s seal burnt into his skin. Mori lowers his head, looking down at the angry red scars -- and then he stiffens.

It’s _bigger._

Mori hastily pulls up his shirt, hiding the seal and pushing Izo away, hissing as the movement stretches the skin, stinging.

“How long have you _had_ that thing?”

“The Tower,” Mori manages to grit out, trying to ward away the panic flooding his head. _It’s bigger,_ he thinks. _What the hell does that mean?_ “I have to see Hokage-sama.”

_“Now?”_

_“Izo,”_ Mori gasps out. His head throbs, seeing double. He winces again, and he clutches his chest once more.

“You asshole, if you try and shunshin away _one_ more time, I swear I’ll set Yuko and Aya on you --”

Izo’s voice rings in his head, the sound becoming warped and watery. Mori clutches his ears as the sounds assault him, buzzing in his head.

Izo fades in and out of Mori’s vision. Distantly, he can almost feel Izo shaking him, trying to get his attention. Mori’s head slumps over when he can't hold it up any longer.

His head spins, and everything fades to black.

* * *

 

He stands in a dirty field, a broken and ruined training ground -- the earth littered with holes, burnt patches of grass, and a half-burnt forest with hints of green peeking out between the blackened husks of trees.

His eyes widen in recognition, and he whirls around, heart racing.

The field is empty. Mori lets out a relieved sigh -- no Kyuubi.

Unsure of what to do next, Mori looks down at his feet -- only to jump back at the sight. The earth beneath him is burning. He falls backward and onto his butt, scooting back in panic as the flames leap up into the air -- only to dissipate within seconds. The fire is gone, leaving nothing but ashes at his feet.

“What the hell…?”

Shaking off his confusion, Mori gets back to his feet. He stands still for a moment, feeling a faint breeze drift across his face.

Out of the corner of his eye, something moves.

When Mori turns his head, all he can see is a faint flash of movement disappearing into the trees.

“Wait!” he calls out, taking a step forward. Walking at first, and then running, he makes his way to the treeline, looking for the source of the movement. He doesn’t hesitate as he enters the burnt forest, taking note of the young trees peeking out in between the old ones. Another flash of movement, and he takes another step forward.

 _Careful,_ something whispers in his ears.

Mori runs through the forest, eyes darting around to search for the mysterious creature. He skids to a stop in a dark and dirty clearing, whirling around. The branches, burnt to twigs, cast ominous shadows on the ashy ground.

_Don't waste this._

* * *

 

Mori lets out a tired groan, feeling his head throb. He tries to sit up, but as soon as he shifts, his head spins and the world seems to flip around him.

He chokes on air before managing to suppress his gag reflex.

 _I was in the hospital,_ he thinks. _Izo… that not-ANBU… I_ died.

He’d _died._ He can still feel the attacker’s sword piercing through his skin, right between his ribs. He rubs the area uncomfortably, a frown on his face, when suddenly someone is at his side, helping him move to a seated position.

It's Izo.

_Izo?_

Mori stares pointedly at his right arm, whole and present, before jerking his gaze away to study the rest of the room he’s in.

It’s a hospital room. The blinds are drawn and there are privacy seals stuck onto the walls and ceiling. Mori bites his tongue as he looks down at his chest. He’s wearing a hospital gown.

Someone changed his clothes. Someone saw his seal. _Izo’s_ seen his seal. Mori flinches at the thought.

“You’re awake,” someone says.

Mori’s eyes flick over to the corner of the room. The Sandaime Hokage sits in a chair, looking as steady and calm as ever.

“...How long was I out?” Mori asks.

Izo stares at him. “Almost a day.”

Mori frowns.

“Don't worry, your team is okay,” Izo says, although that wasn't exactly what Mori was thinking. “Aya’s watching them. They'll probably stop by tomorrow, so be ready for that.”

“Oh.”

The thought of his genin team sends another stab of guilt through Mori. He lowers his gaze, looking down.

“I got the Hokage for you,” Izo says dryly. “He put you in a hospital. So, for future reference, I think we could just skip the step where you try and run away.”

Mori winces.

Izo frowns at Mori’s pained expression. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m about to explode,” Mori mutters. His insides still burn, his chest blistering. It’s like an out of control fever, his head throbbing, his skin burning.

The Hokage looks only thoughtful at that comment.

“What happened?” Izo asks. “We were talking and then you suddenly --” he waves his arm -- _right arm --_ in a vague gesture.

 _What_ didn’t _happen,_ Mori thinks to himself.

“It’s a long story.”

Izo is unimpressed. “Can we hear it?”

“Um,” Mori says. “Uh, have you two been here the entire time?”

“Yeah,” Izo says impatiently. “We were waiting for you to wake up.”

A quick look at the Sandaime tells him that, no, Izo doesn’t know anything yet. For nearly twenty-four hours his friend has been waiting for an explanation.

All is silent. Mori doesn’t even know where to _begin._

He sits there for a few moments, hoping that the Sandaime will go first. The Hokage sits, motioning for Mori to be the one to explain.

Mori scowls, the skin on his face burning with the movement.

“Okay,” Izo says, breaking the silence. “What the _hell_ is going on?” he demands.

The Hokage’s eyes dart from Mori to Izo and back.

“I trust him,” Mori says, in answer to the unasked question.

“Really?” the Hokage asks.

“I know that _you_ trust him, too,” Mori says carefully. He thinks of the conversation between Izo and the Sandaime back in the hospital.

Izo’s ANBU, handpicked by the Hokage to do whatever high-stakes scouting mission he was sent on. The Hokage trusts him.

“Trust me with what?” Izo asks. “That seal?”

Mori bites his lip at the mention of the seal.

“What’s the date, today?” Mori asks.

“April fifth,” the Sandaime says. “Seven years after the start of the Yondaime’s reign.”

 _Goddamn, the Kyuubi told the truth,_ Mori thinks, rubbing his chest uncomfortably. He’d died. He’s in the past. _Again._

“It’s been four months,” Mori says, and the Sandaime’s eyes widen at the short amount of time.

“Four months?” Izo echoes, confused.

“The seal grew,” Mori says, ignoring Izo’s question for now and reporting to the Sandaime.

The Sandaime nods; he probably saw it when Izo brought him in. “I've contacted Jiraiya.”

 _Ah, Jiraiya-sama,_ Mori thinks. The man was quite fascinated with his seal after the Kyuubi attack. No doubt he'll be excited to see more of it.

Mori chews on the inside of his mouth. The seal on his chest is about twice as big. He has no idea what the fuck _that_ means.

 _I don’t realize what power this gives you,_ Mori had said to the Kyuubi, all those years ago. He curses himself, wishing he could’ve gotten more information.

“What is it?” Izo asks. “A curse seal?”

 _You’re not too far off,_ Mori thinks, not meeting Izo’s eyes. Instead, he looks to the Hokage.

“He’s seen it,” Mori says, although he’s pretty sure that the Sandaime is aware of that fact.

“Yes,” the Hokage agrees.

“I also think he could be useful,” Mori says.

 _At your discretion,_ the old man seems to say. There’s some sort of emotion in the Sandaime’s eyes, a mixture of curiosity, pity, and… something else, Mori isn’t sure. Mori looks away from the Sandaime to look at Izo, who stares at Mori like he’s grown a second head.

 _Okay,_ Mori thinks. _Here we go._

“You can’t tell anyone,” Mori insists, directing his words toward Izo, now. _“No one._ Not even Aya or Yuko.”

Izo’s eyebrows knit together, concerned. He takes a deep breath. “I swear.”

There’s not really a way to break this gently.

“I’m from four months in the future,” Mori says.

Izo stares.

“The seal is a time travel seal,” Mori says. “It sends me back in time whenever… well, whenever it’s triggered. I’ve actually traveled through time twice. The first time was the Kyuubi attack. This is the second time.” Mori shifts in his seat.

Time travel isn’t exactly his favorite subject.

“Oh,” Izo says, face expressionless. He blinks once, then twice, and then he sits down on one of the chairs at the edge of the room, face blank. “ _Oh.”_

“It’s true,” the Hokage says. “That seal has been checked by Jiraiya and the Yondaime himself.”

Izo nods, his face still blank.

“Uh… Izo?” Mori asks, hesitant.

“That… fits,” Izo answers, after a pause.

It’s Mori’s turn to blink. “Fits?”

“I've always thought that you knew about the Kyuubi attack in advance,” Izo confesses. “And there were a bunch of little things, too, but… I dunno, I was thinking more along the lines of ‘educated guess’ than _time travel.”_

“...Oh.”

Well, it’s been nearing seven years since he’s traveled through time. He was bound to slip up sometime.

Mori lightly rubs his chest again, the skin still burnt and tender. Izo’s eyes widen, finally understanding the meaning of the gesture.

“What new information do you have?” The Hokage asks.

Mori pauses. Four months ago was a pretty intense time period.

“Did Itachi warn us about the Uchiha yet?” Mori asks.

“Last night,” the Sandaime says, at the same time Izo says, “What?”

“There might be a coup three years from now,” Mori says for Izo’s benefit. Thinking of the Massacre only adds to Mori’s feverish headache. “It’s complicated.”

Izo continues to stare.

“There's something else,” Mori says quietly. He takes a deep breath, carefully weighing his next few words. He glances over at Izo.

_A fear-struck face. Rushed and panicked, a voice steadily rising in volume._

_“No, no,_ _please don’t I haven't told anyone --”_

“... It has to do with Izo’s mission,” Mori says, looking away.

Izo stiffens. The Hokage leans back in his chair.

Mori isn't supposed to know anything about Izo’s mission, but considering the fact that he literally died because of it, it was probably a good thing he eavesdropped on Izo’s and the Sandaime’s conversation.

“Bad news, then,” the Sandaime says, closing his eyes. “I had hoped…”

Izo’s eyes darken at the mention of whatever it is they’re talking about.

“Um,” Mori says, before they get into a conversation he can’t keep up with. “I don't exactly know everything about Izo’s mission, though.”

“Oh, right,” Izo says. “You're…”

“Not in ANBU,” Mori finishes, looking pointedly at Izo.

The Nara nods, confirming Mori’s earlier conclusion.

Izo and the Hokage exchange a glance.

“How do you know about the mission in the first place?” Izo asks.

Mori flinches, his head throbbing.

_In the darkness, he can barely make out the figure of the not-ANBU raising their sword high above Izo’s body --_

“It was relevant in that last day,” Mori says. The Sandaime’s eyes widen in understanding.

Izo’s eyes narrow in thought.

“Wait,” Mori says, a sudden thought occurring to him. “If we talked about the Uchiha last night... then Izo should have left on his mission by now.”

“I had him stay,” the Sandaime says. “He saw your seal, and considering the state you were in when he brought you to my office, he wouldn’t have done very well on his mission either.”

Izo shrugs, agreeing with the comment.

Mori lets out a relieved sigh. “Good. As far as I know, Izo was unable to get anything out of the mission, except confirm what you already suspected and that they’re… interested in the Uchiha.”

The Hokage looks up at that, sharp eyes locking Mori in place. “The Uchiha?”

“Yes.”

“Are you _certain?”_

“Yes,” Mori says. “Who are we talking about?”

The Sandaime leans back in his chair on the side of the room, troubled. “It’s… not of your concern.”

Mori’s eyes widen in disbelief and he grips the sheets of the hospital bed.

 _Itachi is_ my _student,_ he thinks. _I literally_ died _for this information. How is this_ not _my concern?_

Mori bites his tongue and turns away.

“I understand,” he says, carefully keeping any trace of his irritation hidden. There’s still a bit of frustration in his voice, and he plays it off by wiping his forehead.

 _Damn, I'm burning up,_ he thinks.

The Sandaime nods. Izo looks at Mori with concern in his eyes.

“Do you know anything else?” The Sandaime asks.

Mori thinks.

“Well, relations with the Uchiha have been slowly declining,” Mori says. “There’s a couple anti-Uchiha motions considered in the next four months; one restricting Sharingan usage within Konoha actually made it to the table to be considered. If you can prevent that, it’ll help.”

“I will keep an eye on it,” the Sandaime says, rising to his feet. “Thank you, Hayakawa-san.”

Izo bows; Mori, sitting on the hospital bed, lowers his head in respect.

The Hokage swiftly removes the privacy seals and leaves the room, leaving Izo and Mori alone.

 _I was just in this situation,_ Mori thinks. _But Izo was the one in the hospital bed._

“Can you open the blinds?” Mori asks, shifting uncomfortably in the shady room. A shiver runs down his spine, partly from the memory of his death and partly from his fever.

“Sure,” Izo says, and he gets up and pulls the string.

Late afternoon light streams in. The sun hovers low in the sky, a pinkish glow enveloping the view. From the window, Mori can see the northern areas of the city, can see the main road head down up to the gates, the red rooftops of the village.

“What time is it?” Mori asks. The angle of the sun is different this time of year; he’s adjusted to the time four months ahead.

“About five thirty,” Izo says.

“Mhm.”

They sit in silence for a few seconds. Mori stares out the window. His head throbs.

 _This fever is going to linger, huh,_ Mori thinks.

Well, considering he’d just _died,_ a fever isn’t too bad in comparison.

“Mori,” Izo says quietly, interrupting his thoughts. “Something happened to me on my mission, didn’t it?”

“Not anymore,” Mori replies, his voice hard.

Izo falls silent. Mori turns away from the window and leans back into the hospital bed.

“Something happened to you, too,” Izo observes. “Because of my mission.”

“It's not your fault, Mori says. “Not you, not you four months from now.”

“How is it triggered?” Izo asks.

Mori’s hand drifts up and brushes his chest. Through his hospital gown, he can feel the bumpy flesh, burnt into a seal he'll never be able to escape.

 _He darts forward, Izo has to be alive, he_ has _to be -- only when he looks down, there's a blade sticking out of his chest --_

“... I’d rather not say,” Mori says quietly.

By the way Izo’s eyes darken at the reply, he has his answer.

Izo leans back into his chair. Mori stares at the ceiling.

“I have to go now,” Izo says. “But we’ll talk about this. Later.”

“Okay,” Mori says.

* * *

A couple minutes after Izo leaves, the door opens up. His dad and brother rush into the room, their eyes immediately going to Mori and cataloging every little thing they see that’s out of place.

“Hi,” Mori says.

“Hi, nii-san,” Kenji says. “Why are you here? Do I have to beat up anyone for this?”

“I'm _sick,_ Kenji,” Mori replies. “Also, I outrank you, you Chuunin brat. I can take care of myself.”

“Obviously not,” Kenji scoffs, but he grins in relief.

“Are you okay?” His dad asks. He rushes up places a hand on Mori’s head. “You're burning up.”

“It'll go away,” Mori says. “Just a fever.”

Kenji frowns curiously.

“You're lucky Izo was there when you passed out,” his dad chides. “Honestly, you don't know when to take a break!”

Is that the story going around? That he passed out randomly due to sickness?

“Well, I'm resting now,” Mori says, laughing nervously.

His dad rolls his eyes. “Honestly -- you should know to take better care of yourself by now.”

Mori's lips quirk up into a stiff smile.

 _He stumbles through the museum, barely able to see, cursing himself for his inattention. Chie’s angry yells echo through the halls -- his team, he has to protect his team_ \--

“I've learned my lesson.”

“Drink lots of water, okay?” His dad says. “And rest every once in awhile.”

“Of course,” Mori promises.

“Don't pull dangerous stunts,” Kenji orders. “I'll _know_ if you do.”

Mori nods, a slight smile on his lips. “Got it.”

“I'm serious,” Kenji says.

“Okay.”

Kenji stares at him for a moment before nodding.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” his dad says. He ruffles Mori’s hair. Mori tries to duck away, but it’s pointless when he’s stuck in a hospital bed.

“You should stop by later this week,” his dad says. “I'll cook for you.”

Mori perks up at the thought of a home-cooked meal. “Barbecue?”

 _“Salad,”_ his dad corrects him. “You should be staying healthy, young man. You clearly can't do that on your own.”

Kenji laughs at Mori’s expression. He leans in.

“I'll get you some barbecue, nii-san,” he says in Mori’s ear. “But only if you take it easy.”

Mori’s mind wanders back to Aya and Yuko, forcing him to eat ramen with them. Yuko using her Jyuuken on his legs. Aya’s warm smile juxtaposed against her blazing glare.

“I think my teammates have that covered,” he says with a slight wince.

He can just imagine their faces at the news. Yuko’s shocked and frigid concern when she hears that Mori passed out because of a fever. Aya shoving aside her worry to take care of his team for the day, letting it simmer and burn until she can unleash it on him.

Oh, they're going to tear him apart when he finally meets up with them.

“Yeah, they're pretty terrifying,” Kenji agrees. “Good luck.”

For the first time since his second death, a real smile crosses Mori’s lips.

 _My team,_ he thinks. _My family._

He hadn’t realized how much he missed them. How obsessed he’d been with the Massacre. He hadn’t realized how heavy of a burden he was carrying, how much he _needed_ someone.

Why did he try to push them away?

 _Izo knows now,_ Mori thinks. _He’s alive. Aya’s alive, Yuko’s alive. My family’s alive._

He feels his eyes start to burn, and he rubs at them with his hands.

“Oi -- Mori!”

He chokes out a laugh, even as he feels hot liquid start to run down his face.

“Mori!”

His father moves closer and grips Mori’s shoulder, reassuring. Kenji’s face blurs on the other side of his bed.

“I’m fine,” Mori says, suddenly feeling a lot lighter in spite of his feverish headache. “I’m -- I’m not alone.”

“‘Course not,” Kenji says. “You’re really dense sometimes, you know?”

Mori continues to laugh, nearly hysterical. His father rubs circles into his back as he cries, sniffling and sobbing and choking, and suddenly he feels like a little kid again.

Before the time travel. Before the Kyuubi. Before his team was torn apart, before he lost his family, before the war. Hayakawa Mori -- a quiet, insecure boy who didn’t want to be a burden, who didn’t know how to ask for help.

“I -- I’m sorry,” Mori chokes out, in between bouts of strangled laughter. His apologies probably make no sense to his dad or his brother, but he can’t help it. “I’m sorry, tou-san, I’m _sorry --”_

“Shh,” his father says, calm and soothing. “It’s okay. You might be a ninja, but you’re still my son.”

Mori lets out a half-choked sob, letting all of his stress spill out.

_I couldn’t help Itachi. I failed my students. I couldn’t save Izo. I died._

_But… I’m alive._

Mori’s laughter fades, turning into quiet sobs. And soon, those fade away, too, until he’s left lying down on the hospital bed, completely drained.

“You’re stressed, aren’t you, nii-san?” Kenji asks.

Mori almost laughs at that, but he can’t muster up the energy. “Yeah. I can’t tell you anything, though.”

His dad’s mouth is drawn out into a tight line at that.

“Oh,” Kenji says. “Classified jounin stuff, huh?”

“Something like that.”

A pause.

“Take a break,” his dad says. “And don’t miss our dinner.”

“I won’t,” Mori promises.

They leave quietly, leaving the door open just a crack. It’s late now -- faint moonlight streams in through the window.

 _Visiting hours are probably over by now,_ Mori thinks. He’ll be safe from his teammates’ concerned wrath for a few more hours.

That’s fine. He yawns and closes his eyes. Still, it takes him a long time to fall asleep.

* * *

His fever lessens slightly, but he still has a killer headache. But he’s not in danger of immediate death or irreparable harm, so they hand him a bottle of medication and give him strict orders to rest his body and his chakra.

“Especially your chakra,” the nurse says. “It’s acting a little weird, but that’s normal with high fevers like this. You’re unconsciously using it to heal the parts that are sick right now, and it’ll take longer if you use chakra. It should go back to normal in a couple days.”

“I understand,” Mori replies.

“I’d recommend that you go straight home,” the nurse says, “but seeing as you’re a ninja, you’ll probably just ignore that. So just take it easy.”

“Thank you,” Mori says, with a slight bow. Then he turns and makes his way out of the hospital.

 _They weren't wrong,_ he thinks to himself. The first place he goes to isn't his apartment, but to Training Ground Twelve instead.

He walks there, still trying to adjust to the fact that he's traveled through time. _Again._

It's a good thing that Itachi’s already told them about the Massacre, because he doesn't know if he'd be able to handle that conversation a second time around.

He's also still replaying that conversation with Izo and the Hokage in his head.

Izo _knows._ He knows about the time travel. Maybe not everything, but he knows.

For so long, it was just him. Yeah, the Sandaime knew, and technically Jiraiya-sama, but the sage was never in Konoha and Mori can't exactly unload stress on the Hokage.

Mori screws his eyes shut tight before he opens them once more. Only time will tell if confiding in Izo was the right choice.

He ends up at the familiar entrance to Training Ground Twelve. Taking a deep breath, he steps forward and immediately catches sight of Aya and his team in the clearing.

Aya senses almost immediately -- she whips her head around and her eyes widen. His genin follow her gaze.

They stare at him for only a second before running up to meet him.

“Mori-sensei!” Chie shouts, sprinting up and tackling him with a hug. “You're alive!”

“Chie!” Riku cries out. He slows down to a stop a few feet away. “He was just in the hospital!”

“Oh, sorry!”

Mori laughs and ruffles her hair. “It's fine,” he says. “It'll take more than that to knock me down.”

Chie beams at him.

Issei pushes up his glasses. “It's only been one day,” he says. “I don't know why you're so enthusiastic.”

“Ha!” Chie points an accusing finger at him. “You're one to talk! Who wanted to break into the hospital after visiting hours to visit sensei?”

Issei snarls. “I was being _facetious!”_

“Now you sound like Riku!” Chie says.

Both Issei and Riku splutter indignantly as Chie drags Mori by the wrist over to their training spot, chattering the whole way.

“Aya-san is so cool, Mori-sensei!” she says. “She took us out for ramen!”

“Did she?” Mori asks. He looks up and meets Aya’s eyes.

And he freezes.

“Ahhh, Chie, you can let go of me now,” he says nervously.

Aya smiles at him, all teeth and pain. “Nice to see you _out and about,”_ she greets him, the lighthearted tone of voice contrasting against her fiery glare.

“Heh,” Mori says, a sheepish defense.

“Are you even supposed to be here?” Aya asks. “When did you get discharged?”

Mori shrugs. “Five minutes ago.”

Aya closes her eyes at that. “Damn it, Mori,” she sighs.

“You should take better care of yourself, Mori-sensei!” Chie orders. “How else will you teach us to be cool ninja like you?”

Mori laughs and scratches the back of his neck.

Chie's enthusiasm and genin team’s banter is lighthearted. Familiar. It's as if…

_As if nothing had changed._

Mori freezes, his eyes widening.

 _Nothing has changed,_ he realizes. _Nothing._

His genin team hadn't bonded yet. Itachi never met them. There's so much they don't know how to do yet because it _hasn't happened._

Four months of his life, erased. Four months worth of memories made _meaningless_.

“Mori?”

He blinks. Aya is in front of him, a hand on his forehead.

“Mori, you shouldn't be out right now,” she says, face scrunched up in concern.

“I --” he gets out. “I… I’ll just sit down. By the trees.”

“Mori,” Aya says, a note of warning in her voice.

“I'll be fine,” he replies, smiling at her. “I just need to rest, right? I can rest while being here with my team.”

Chie’s face brightens, but it's shallow. Riku smiles hesitantly, and Issei… just stands there.

Mori’s smile becomes slightly strained. _Four months made meaningless._ They don't know him yet. They don't even know what they can do.

“Besides,” Mori says. He walks over to the treeline and sits down, cross-legged, by the roots. He leans forward expectantly. “I want to see what you taught them.”

“Yeah!” Chie says. “Sensei, look, check this out --”

Chie proceeds to run through one of Aya’s favorite katas. It's clumsy and wobbly, and she skips a few steps, but considering she just learned it yesterday --

“Very good, Chie,” Mori says, and encouraging grin on his face.

Her eyes brighten, and she beams.

Chie’s insecurities haven't built up yet. He hasn't pushed away his team.

Well… Maybe he can change all of that, too.

* * *

 

When he gets back to his apartment, Izo is already there, lying on the couch with his eyes closed.

_Of course._

Mori sighs, walks over, and sits down on the edge of the couch. He glances around.

Izo, looking ahead, had already stuck a bunch of privacy seals around his apartment. They’re on the walls, the ceiling, the floor. It’s obvious that he’s looking for answers, answers that he couldn’t get from the Hokage.

For a moment, all is silent. There are too many questions. They don't know how to start.

“What gave it away?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Izo laughs and shakes his head. He rubs his temples. “... I dunno. I always thought it was weird that you asked me to watch your family _that_ night specifically.”

“I guess,” Mori says.

“After that, it was just little things,” Izo says. “Little comments. Stuff you shouldn't know; stuff that never happened. I also don't recall you ever trying to learn all the jutsu you happen to know now.”

“Learning all that took a long time,” Mori remembers. “I guess it would be weird if I just knew them, huh.”

“How old are you?” Izo asks.

Mori shrugs. “I’ve been here so long I _do_ kinda feel twenty-two… but technically, I guess I’m thirty-four.”

Izo coughs, his eyes flying open. “ _Old.”_ The comment is a joke, but Mori can see the shock in his face.

Mori smiles and shakes his head. “Shut up.”

They fall silent again. Mori looks down at the floor. Again, his hand drifts up to his chest.

“I always thought you were hiding something,” Izo says, watching the gesture with sharp eyes. “Like… I dunno. Maybe some old necklace from someone that died. Or a scar from the war. Hell, I even thought you had heart problems for a while.”

“Do I really do this that often?” Mori asks, looking down at his hand. He drops it back down to his side and flexes his fingers.

“Not too often, but often enough,” Izo says, matter-of-fact. “Whenever you get melancholy, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“... Do you know how much you've changed in this time?” Izo asks.

Mori bites his lip.

_Aya’s body, trapped beneath the burning rubble; Kenji and his father, crushed by a falling beam --_

“A little bit,” Mori says. “I'm not exactly well-informed, unfortunately.”

Izo nods as he turns his gaze toward the ceiling. Another lull in the conversation.

Mori breathes in.

There's a question burning in the back of his mind, one that he's had since waking up in the past once more. The Hokage had told him that it was not his concern, but… he needed to know.

“What was your mission?” He asks, turning to meet Izo’s eyes.

Izo looks back at him, a slight frown on his face.

“Look, I know the Hokage didn't want me to know,” Mori says. “But… it’s relevant.”

“How so?” Izo asks, his voice smooth and almost lazy.

It pisses Mori off, almost. How he can be so blasé about this whole thing.

“You know already, don’t you?” Mori asks, looking away.

“I know it has something to do with whatever’s going on with the Uchiha,” Izo says.

“Yes.”

“And what does that have to do with you?” Izo asks.

Mori grits his teeth.

“I know Itachi used to be your student,” Izo says lowly. “But whatever is going on, it’s bigger than us. What makes it ‘relevant’ to you?”

“Like you said,” Mori says. “Itachi’s my student.”

“Okay,” Izo says. “You don’t want him to get involved with this coup or be branded a traitor. All you have to do is give him an alibi, then. You still don’t have to get involved with the rest of the Uchiha.”

“No,” Mori says, scowling. “The only way to get Itachi out of this _is_ to get involved with the Uchiha.”

“It’s still not your responsibility,” Izo argues. “You’ve told the Hokage. He has the resources to take this on. Why are you forcing it on yourself?”

“Are you telling me to ignore it?” Mori shoots out, defensive.

“I’m telling you to _think,”_ Izo snaps back.  He shifts position and sits properly on the couch. “...That seal… the trigger is painful, isn’t it? You weren’t expecting to end up here again. And you were in _pain._ ”

“Maybe time travelling is draining,” Mori says.

“And maybe the trigger is exactly what I think it is,” Izo replies.

Mori grits his teeth as they stare at each other.

 _He knows how it works,_ Mori thinks. _Damn Naras, too smart for their own good._

“You clearly got involved last time and it clearly didn’t work out,” Izo says, an angry version of concern in his voice. “And you’re still going to try again?”

Mori’s fingernails dig into his palm. “I’m not making the same mistake,” he says, thinking of his gradual obsession with the Massacre. He winces, thinking of that disastrous C-rank and the even more disastrous fall out. But…

“Still… Itachi’s still my student. I’m _not_ letting it end the same way.”

Not with Itachi’s hands stained with his family’s blood. Not with a thirteen-year-old cast out of the only village he’s ever known, ostracized and hunted down.

Izo pauses, taking in Mori’s words. He frowns. “And how did it end?”

Mori sighs, closing his eyes. All the stress and frustration drains out of him as he leans back and slumps onto the couch.

“Death,” Mori says.

“Itachi’s?” Izo asks.

Mori shakes his head. “That’d probably be a kinder fate, if I’m being honest,” he sighs.

Another pause. Izo takes in all the information Mori had just given out. Mori picks at a loose string on the edge of his sleeve.

“What was your mission?” Mori asks again.

He’s well aware that the Hokage probably doesn’t want them to be trading information like this, but at this point, Mori doesn’t care. He’s promised himself that he won’t become obsessed with the Massacre, not again. He’s learned his lesson.

That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t deserve answers.

“Scouting,” Izo murmurs. “You know I’m in ANBU, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s an branch of ANBU run by Shimura Danzo,” Izo says. “It’s called ROOT.”

“A branch of ANBU?” Mori asks, starting to put the pieces together.

“Yeah,” Izo says. “You’ve probably heard rumors, but ANBU -- it’s pretty dark. The missions we take… they’re… it --”

“Sucks,” Mori finishes for him. “I was in it for two years.”

Izo blinks. “Oh,” he says, mildly startled. “You’ll have to tell me all about it sometime, then.”

“So, ROOT.”

“ROOT,” Izo continues. “ANBU is sunshine and rainbows compared to those guys. They’re… intense. Or they would be, if they weren’t all robots.”

The ANBU in the Archives was ROOT, then. Further proof that they’re interested in the Uchiha.

“Sandaime-sama was getting uneasy,” Izo says. “Lately, they’ve been getting pretty bold. Even going behind the Hokage’s back. I was going to scout them out, reaffirm their loyalty, but then…” he makes a vague arm gesture, as if to signal everything that’s happened since then.

“Right,” Mori says, trying not to stare too obviously at Izo’s arm. “... That makes sense.”

He runs through the scenario in his mind. Izo, scouting, gets found out. He gets captured, but instead of killing him, they use him instead. Somewhere along the way, he loses his arm. Later, he manages to escape, which leads them to send someone after him...

Mori stiffens at the memory.

“You said ROOT was interested in the Uchiha,” Izo says. “So they’re involved with the coup? Do you think Shimura-sama would betray Konoha?”

Mori frowns and stares at his floor intently. “I don’t know… Shimura-sama is still part of the Council even after the Massacre, I’m not sure what role he --”

“Massacre?” Izo cuts in.

Mori blinks. “Oh,” he says. All Izo knows about right now is the potential coup. He doesn’t know how it ends. “Right, you still don’t know how Itachi’s involved.”

“Involved?” Izo asks. “What, because he’s the clan heir?”

“If only,” Mori says, rubbing his temples. “Unfortunately, he’s a lot more involved than that…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (No cliffhanger this time, lucky you.)
> 
> So. We're now back to Massacre, Part 5! Specifically, Mori jumps back to when he's talking with Izo right before Izo leaves on his mission. Which is funny in a horrifying way, because this is the conversation I'm imagining:
> 
> Izo: I'm just heading to the gates. Are you okay?  
> Mori:*doubles over and throws up on the ground*
> 
> Also, the number of people who are in on the time travel increases from three to four! (That is: Mori, Sandaime, Jiraiya, and now Izo.)  
> ...I also remembered that I cut out the Jiraiya scene because it didn't fit in, but DON'T WORRy, we'll see him soon! He's just never in Konoha.
> 
> And finally, after so many chapters of frustration: ROOT is out in the open!! We _finally_ bring in Danzo! Let's do this, everyone! LET US TEAR THAT GUY DOWN.


	15. The Massacre, Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tying up a loose end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've stared at this chapter for so long I can't even read it anymore. What is going on.
> 
> (Also: everything I know about shogi comes from Shion no Ou. Which is a great anime if you ever need a murder mystery/competition feel all wrapped up into one show.)

_Six years ago:_

 

“That’s some seal you got there, kid.”

Mori shifts uncomfortably as he stands, bare-chested, in the Hokage’s office. The blinds are drawn and the privacy seals are at full power.

And Jiraiya-sama of the _Sannin_ is standing in front of him, scrutinizing the burns on his chest.

The Sandaime stands a little to Mori’s left, observing. Jiraiya twists his mouth and straightens up, backing away and leaning on the Hokage’s desk to get a full view of the seal.

“Well, it’s the real deal, I can tell that much,” Jiraiya muses. “It’s some ridiculous mesh of space-time, barrier, and storage seals, and it’s heavily tied to both your body and your chakra.”

He points to part of the seal. “As soon as your heart stops beating, this section starts draining out your chakra to power the time travel. And this whole mess right here is a barrier against the Shinigami, I’d assume. I've never seen anything like it.”

“What are the storage seals for?” The Sandaime asks, studying the seal alongside his student.

“As far as I can tell, it'll store his spiritual chakra,” Jiraiya shrugs. “That way it'll drag his mind back when it’s triggered. Although…”

Mori frowns. “Although what?”

“I dunno, it seems kind of excessive to me,” Jiraiya says. “Never mind. The important thing is that it's real. Congratulations, Mori-kun -- you're a time traveler.”

Mori rubs his arm and frowns.

Jiraiya pulls out a brush and swirls it in a bottle of ink while spreading out a scroll.

“I'm gonna copy it down,” he says, and he starts to sketch out the seal. Mori watches, fascinated, as the ink spreads across the page -- beautiful swirls and lines of kanji in flawless calligraphy.

“Is that wise?” The Sandaime asks. “If this seal falls into the wrong hands --”

“Trust me, sensei,” Jiraiya waves off his concern. “I know how important this is. No one knows sealing like I do, except maybe --” he pauses.

 _The Yondaime,_ Mori finishes in his head. It had been almost a month since the Kyuubi attack.

He feels another flash of guilt. _I couldn't save him, I couldn't protect my Hokage --_

“Anyway, it's just so I can study it,” Jiraiya says, his voice slightly strained. “I can hardly make sense of it. Whoever made it is very skilled.”

At that, the Sandaime shoots a pointed look in Mori’s direction, which he pretends to ignore.

Once Jiraiya finishes copying the seal, Mori is free to go. He pulls his shirt and his vest back on, and proceeds to leave the Tower as fast as he can without resorting to jutsu.

Only, as soon as he steps outside of the Hokage's Tower, he is suddenly accosted by a very intimidating ninja.

“Um, hello, Jiraiya-sama,” Mori says, blinking in surprise.

“Your seal,” Jiraiya demands.

Mori looks around nervously. There are people watching them, most of them staring wide-eyed at the Seal Master. “Here?”

“To the bar, then,” Jiraiya suggests.

“Is that any better?”

“I know a few jutsu for this type of thing,” Jiraiya grins at him. The man places a hand on Mori's back and starts to push him towards the nearest bar.

 _Oh no, I hope no one recognizes me,_ Mori thinks. The last thing he needs right now is attention -- the type of attention he’d draw from being a fresh sixteen-year-old jounin drinking with the _Toad Sage._

Jiraiya steers him into a bar and orders both of them some sake.

“Oh wait, you're a shrimp,” Jiraiya muses, taking in Mori’s smallish frame and young face. “Oops.”

As he speaks, he runs through a few hand seals. Mori barely feels the chakra shift, but he can see that people are already beginning to look away from them; ignoring them.

“I’m _twenty-eight,”_ Mori corrects him, when he's reasonably sure that no one is listening in. “Plus I’m a ninja and a jounin, it still doesn't matter.”

“Twenty-eight, huh?” Jiraiya says, a glint in his eye. “That's… what, thirteen years from now?”

“Twelve,” Mori answers. “Was there something you wanted, Jiraiya-sama?”

“Yes, actually,” Jiraiya says.

The bartender hands them a bottle of sake and two cups. Jiraiya pours himself a drink and sips it, before setting his cup down and turning a serious gaze onto Mori.

“Who put that seal on you?”

“You don’t know them,” Mori answers, not too smoothly, and not too quickly. He shrugs casually, though going by Jiraiya's skeptical expression, he's not buying it.

“Oh, really? I know a lot of people, kid, are you sure about that?”

“Certain,” Mori says. His own cup is empty and untouched, and he wills himself to stay calm.

“So that gives me three options,” Jiraiya comments. “One -- they're not born yet. Highly unlikely given the complexity of that seal, which would make them twelve years old or younger. Two -- they managed to fly under the radar for the next twelve years before unleashing that sort of power on you, which I also doubt because you don't seem like the type of guy to withhold crucial information like that. Three is that you just don't want to tell me or my sensei.”

“You don't know them,” Mori says with a nonchalant shrug.

“But I know _of_ them,” Jiraiya answers, scrutinizing Mori’s reactions. “Sensei said that you claimed an enemy put it on you. Which enemy?”

“Does it matter?” Mori asks, defensive.

“It does,” Jiraiya says. He takes another swig of his sake and swallows. “You see -- there’s a small amount of foreign chakra in that seal. Not enough to do anything, or even to identify it, but it’s still there. It doesn't mean anything _now,_ but it might mean something in the future. And if an enemy put it on you, you _really_ don't want to be flying blind.”

Mori falls silent at that. The Kyuubi _had_ said that their chakra had mingled, but he had thought that it was temporary -- drained away when he time traveled.

He hopes it doesn't mean anything.

“... Is it Orochimaru?” Jiraiya asks, his voice low. “I… he only left six months ago, I can see why you would want to hold that back --”

“It wasn't Orochimaru,” Mori answers.

There's a flash of subtle relief on Jiraiya’s face before it’s schooled back into that curious expression.

“Then who?”

Mori closes his eyes.

_A large red fox hovers above him, red eyes burning straight into his soul. The burning forest around him bleeds away into Konoha’s skyline, and everything burns --_

Mori pours himself a shot and downs it in one go.

Jiraiya lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“It's not a threat to Konoha,” Mori says. _At the moment, at least._

“You said they were an enemy, though.” Jiraiya glances over at him, searching. And then suddenly Mori understands what he's getting at.

Mori’s grip on his drink tightens. “ _I’m_ not a threat to Konoha,” he insists.

Jiraiya throws his hands up in a placating gesture. “I never said that! I was just curious.”

His voice is light and mildly defensive -- exactly the tone one would expect for that response. But Mori knows better. He's a spy, too.

“Sorry,” Jiraiya says, calculated and casual. “It's a sensitive subject, huh?”

“I know I'm not doing myself any favors with this,” Mori says. “Maybe I'll tell you guys later, when I'm more comfortable with the idea. I don't know. But… trust me when I say that this isn't information that means much to us.”

Jiraiya meets his eyes. Mori stares back, unafraid.

It seems Jiraiya finds what he's looking for, because he nods decisively.

“Good luck,” he says. The Toad Sage takes one last swig of his sake before slamming money down on the counter and getting to his feet. “I hope you'll change your mind about this, later.”

* * *

 

_Present day:_

 

Itachi, unsurprisingly, pops up the day after Mori is released from the hospital. It's early in the morning -- maybe about half an hour or so before Mori meets up with his genin -- when he pops up in front of Mori with a folded piece of paper.

“Oh,” Mori says, when Itachi hands it to him. “This is for me?”

“My brother suggested that I make you a card,” Itachi says, straight-faced. “He wanted to sign it, too.”

Mori laughs. He's only met Sasuke a couple of times, but it doesn't take much to tell that the kid idolizes his older brother. By extension, he idolizes everyone that his brother looks up to -- as long as they don't steal 'Itachi-nii' for too long.

 _Feel better_ , is all that Itachi wrote, in a tight, neat script.

 _Mori-sensei-san_ is written underneath in a childish scrawl, and Mori grins.

“How are you?” Mori asks the boy.

Itachi shrugs.

“I see,” Mori says. It’s been three days since he first returned to early April, and it’s his first time seeing Itachi since then. He was probably worried when heard the news.

Itachi looks up at him, and then glances away. “... I thought that… my clan might’ve…”

_Might have found out about our conversation._

That's right -- it's only happened a few days ago. No doubt Itachi's been second guessing his decision this entire time.

Mori squeezes Itachi’s shoulder reassuringly. The boy smiles up at him, small, but relieved.

“I’m fine,” Mori says. “It was just a fever. It’s gone now.”

“That’s good.”

Mori glances up at the sky. He’s still not entirely adjusted to that slight difference in the sun’s angle, but he’s pretty sure that he needs to get going if he wants to get to Training Ground Twelve on time.

And then a sudden memory flashes through his mind.

“I have a question for you, Itachi,” Mori says seriously.

Itachi blinks before he nods.

“Do you have a mission today?” Mori asks.

“No, but I have one tomorrow,” Itachi answers.

Mori’s smile becomes a little strained at that. Even an extra four months doesn't do much to soften the blow of Itachi being in ANBU.

“You're free today, then,” Mori says.

Itachi perks up, recognizing the beginnings of an invitation in Mori’s tone.

“Do you want to learn something new?” Mori asks, starting to turn towards Training Ground Twelve.

Itachi nods enthusiastically as he walks alongside Mori.

Mori smiles as they draw nearer to the grounds. When they enter the clearing, Itachi’s eyes fall upon Chie, Issei, and Riku sitting by a tree.

His hopeful expression falls. Itachi turns and looks up at Mori, betrayed.

Mori holds back his laughter and tries to remain serious. “So, today I'm going to teach you how to teach…”

* * *

 

Itachi’s interaction with Mori’s genin is pretty much the same as Mori remembers. Riku is intimidated, Issei is impressed, and Chie does her best to remain fiercely independent -- something Mori can now recognize as the form of insecurity it is.

In his head, Mori had always equated Chie with a younger Aya. Both of them were charismatic and chatty, optimistic. But knowing what he knows now, he sees more of himself in Chie than anything else.

Reluctant to trouble others. Unwilling to ask for help.

Mori’s own shyness when he was a genin was mostly the result of being completely intimidated by his teammates.

Back as genin, Yuko was the best in their year in taijutsu, and Aya was confident enough to pull anything off. Mori often felt like a freeloader in their team, some guy who was kinda smart but didn't really have anything else going for him.

He didn't want to be the one to drag them down, didn't want them to force his team into helping him. It's an independence born out of insecurity, a problem that can only be solved through close teamwork and friendship.

(But even now, he occasionally feels inferior to his teammates -- though they'd probably verbally flay him alive if he ever admitted it.)

“Will Itachi be returning to help out again?” Issei asks, bringing Mori's attention back to reality.

“He might help out from time to time, but not often,” Mori says, feeling almost dizzy with the deja vu. He shakes his head and purposely changes his next sentence. “He’s busy with his chuunin stuff.”

Chie’s fingers curl slightly, the determination in her eyes intensifying. “Chuunin,” she murmurs.

“Was he really your former student?” Riku asks.

“Yeah,” Mori says. “He graduated the Academy early, so I taught him solo for a while.”

“Huh,” Issei says. “Uchiha, right? Guess that makes sense.”

“He’s really good,” Riku says glumly.

Mori’s eyes flick over to Chie at that comment. He barely manages to catch a flash of uncertainty before it’s replaced with the familiar resolve.

“We’ll be able to do all that, too!” Chie insists. “We just need to practice.”

Riku nods in agreement; Issei doesn’t really react.

Mori can see Chie shifting uncertainly.

_If I’m going to say anything, it has to be now._

“You know,” Mori says quickly, before any of them can leave. “You’re a good team, you know that?”

His students take pause at that statement, all three of them looking a bit confused.

“Thanks, sensei,” Riku says, a hesitant smile on his face.

“Thank you,” Chie says, grinning. “I should go, now --”

“Wait,” Mori cuts in, before she can run off on her own. All three students pause and stare at him.

Mori takes a second to think -- how can he bring this up without making things worse? He doesn’t want Chie to think that he’s coddling her. But he doesn’t want to leave it alone, either.

He takes a breath. “I've got some homework for all of you.”

Issei narrows his eyes. Riku blinks. Chie straightens up.

“You remember my teammates, right?” Mori asks. “Masuko Aya and Hyuuga Yuko?”

Riku nods. Chie elbows Issei in the side, and the boy scowls at the memory of meeting Yuko during their genin test.

“Yes?” Riku says, unsure of where this is going.

“There's a reason why we were placed on a team,” Mori says. “Aya’s a heavy-hitter. Yuko is finesse. And I’m stealth.”

Or at least, that was how Ryuu-sensei always put it. Mori lets his students take in that information before he continues.

“Individually, we're all okay ninja,” Mori says. “But together, we balance each other out. Yuko’s our leader, Aya is our distraction. And I’m the sneaky guy.”

Mori finishes his statement, thinking back to when they were genin.

Back to the war.

Aya and Yuko -- far more flashy and way more intimidating than Mori ever was. Aya with her straightforward fighting style and brute strength, Yuko with her Byakugan and her precise Jyuuken strikes. The two of them would handle the spotlight while Mori would sneak around and go for their real targets -- weapons, enemy plans.

People.

“That’s cool,” Chie says excitedly, dragging Mori out of his thoughts. “What are we?”

Mori shrugs at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “That’s your homework.”

Riku frowns in thought. “A team,” he mutters. “Balance.”

“You don't need an answer right now,” Mori says. “You don't even need one tomorrow, or even a week from now. But it is important.”

Issei narrows his eyes at Mori, trying to see through to the point of the exercise.

“I wouldn’t have passed you three if you didn't fit together,” Mori tells them. “A lot of times, your ability to work together overrides any individual skill you have. Just something to think about.”

"Huh," Riku says. "Teams... like the Sannin?"

"Yeah!" Chie says. "They were super awesome! We can do that, too!"

"No," Issei says.

Chie and Riku turn to him, betrayed.

"What, are you saying we're not that good?" Chie demands.

"We're not," Issei says bluntly. "But that's not the point, is it?"

Riku frowns. "What are you saying?"

Issei shrugs. "The Sannin were the Sannin," he says. "Mori-sensei's team is his own team." He turns away and starts walking out of the training grounds, unconcerned. "We'll probably be better off if we come up with our own answers."

Riku and Chie's eyes widen as Issei walks off.

"Our own answers," Riku says. "Our own team."

Chie looks both uncertain and excited at the prospect.

Mori smiles.

* * *

 

Even though he’s been cleared and discharged and feels much better than he did two days ago, his team _won't leave him alone._

He was expecting this, of course. Had Aya or Yuko passed out due to a mysterious fever, he'd have been hovering around like a mother hen. But honestly?

“This is a bit excessive, don't you think?” He asks.

It’s only three -- he’s only just dismissed his genin. His fever is pretty much gone, and he's left with only a slight cough. Mori _was_ going to use his free time to regroup and start fully sorting out what has and hasn't happened yet in this particular repeat, but.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Aya says, like she doesn't have a bag of emergency medical supplies slung over her shoulder. Yuko stands next to her, a bowl of chicken soup in her hands.

Mori sighs and opens up the door further so that his teammates can step into his apartment. “Ugh. Get in.”

They step in and immediately make themselves at home. Yuko makes a beeline for the kitchen to warm up the soup. Aya slaps a hand on Mori’s forehead and frowns.

“Aya, _the fever is gone,”_ he says, wincing at the smack.

“You never know,” Aya says. “I mean, _‘it came out of nowhere,’_ didn't it?”

 _Fuck the Kyuubi,_ Mori thinks.

Barring time travel, he didn't have an excuse for his sudden collapse. Izo was no help, either -- ‘you’ll probably do something to deserve it, later.’

Telling his teammates that it was a sudden, surprise sickness probably wasn't the best idea.

“You already stocked my fridge,” Mori says, watching Yuko measure out a bowl of soup to warm up and shoving the rest into his refrigerator. “Between you two and my dad, half of this is going to go bad. I can't finish all this food.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Yuko counters.

“Food poisoning,” Mori shoots back.

“Might as well keep you on your toes while we're at it,” Yuko replies.

“That's a weak excuse,” Mori mutters, but he lets Aya push him onto his couch and Yuko hand him a cup of tea.

Aya gets up and starts studying Mori’s bookshelf. There's not a whole lot of books on it, but Mori’s never been much of a reader, anyway.

Aya pulls a shogi board off his shelf and frowns at it.

“My dad got me that for my birthday,” Mori explains.

“I see,” Aya says. She blows on it, and they all watch as a cloud of dust flies into the air.

“Yeah, I don't use it much.”

“We should play!” Aya says. “We can have a board game night!”

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“Board game afternoon, then.”

“With one board game?” Yuko scoffs, but she has a competitive glint in her eyes that makes Mori snort in amusement.

“You know I'm not good at shogi,” Mori complains, but he starts clearing the stuff off of his coffee table to make room for the game.

Aya and Yuko go up against each other first, unsurprisingly.

Yuko is a far better strategist than Aya, but Aya also has no idea what she's doing. Her moves are unpredictable and wild -- and every once in awhile, she'll catch Yuko off guard by disrupting her strategy in a strange and unexpected way.

Yuko frowns at the board between them. “You realize you're leaving yourself wide open, don't you?”

“This is a game of speed!” Aya declares. “You can't pin me down if I get you first!”

“That's not how this works, Aya,” Yuko says, lifting up one of her generals with the tips of her fingers. She sets the piece down with a solid _snap._

Mori laughs.

Yuko's already won, he suspects. The corner of her mouth tugs up in a satisfied smirk.

Aya captures one of Yuko’s lances.

Yuko drops in a pawn. “Check.”

Aya frowns and captures the pawn with one of her knights.

Yuko grins and snaps down a gold general.

“Yeah, Yuko wins,” Mori says, studying the board.

“What?!” Aya shrieks. She stares at the pieces, searching for a way out.

“You can't move your knight, and if you try to defend with your lance, she can take it with her bishop,” Mori says.

“Ahh, damn it!” Aya whines.

“I won ten minutes ago,” Yuko smirks. “You just didn't notice. Mori’s turn!”

“Oh, joy,” Mori mutters, as Aya exchanges positions with him. He sets up his side of the board and bites his tongue.

“Go first,” Yuko offers.

“Okay,” Mori sighs, and the game begins.

He has _some_ idea of what he's doing -- even now, his dad still sits him down for impromptu shogi matches in the hopes that he'll learn to enjoy it -- but still, he's pathetically outmatched against Yuko.

He's still trying to set up a proper defense when Yuko starts launching her attacks on the left side of the board.

“Damn,” Aya laughs, watching Mori frown and scowl and flail over the board. “No mercy.”

Yuko smirks. Mori moves his knight and frowns when her smirk turns into a full grin.

Aya is squinting at the board. “She’s winning, but I don't know why.”

Mori laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t know why, either.”

With every subsequent move, Yuko grows more and more smug. Mori grimaces and does his best to head off her attacks.

To be fair, he does last longer than Aya -- it’s drawing close to an hour when Yuko decides to open her mouth.

“You know what your problem is?” Yuko asks, glancing down at the board. She picks up her rook and sets it down, threatening Mori’s pathetic defense.

“No. Enlighten me.” Mori shifts his bishop, blocking off Yuko’s attack.

Yuko smirks. “You can't multitask.”

She slides up a pawn, innocently sitting by the right side of the board. Mori stares at the arrangement with wide eyes.

He’d been so focused on defending her other attacks that he’d completely forgotten about the pawn she dropped in a few moves back. In a few more moves, he’ll be completely cornered.

Mori sighs. “You win.”

Yuko cackles. Aya laughs. Mori grins at their antics as he starts to collect the pieces and put them away.

He reaches out for the pawn that Yuko had used to win the game and pauses.

_You can’t multitask._

He thinks of the Massacre, and his genin, and his friends. He can’t do everything at once.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, suddenly overcome with the urge to apologize. Both Yuko and Aya pause and look over at him.

“For what?” Aya asks.

_For ignoring you guys. For dying, for leaving you two alone in a future that isn’t mine anymore._

He wonders what happens when he travels back in time. Do those events get erased? Do they branch off, into another universe?

Is there another version of Yuko and Aya out there, mourning?

“... I’ve been busy lately,” Mori says. “But that’s no excuse. You two shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

They’re thinking about his fever. He’s thinking about his death.

Yuko sighs, reaches over, and slaps him on the head.

“Ow!”

“Shut up, Mori,” she says, and she starts helping him put away the shogi board. “We’re always going to worry about you.”

“That’s just how it is,” Aya agrees. “The unbreakable Team Fourteen, you know?”

Mori laughs at the old nickname, one Aya had come up with back when they were genin. Three young ninja, and nothing was impossible back then.

“Just -- don’t pass out on us again,” Yuko says. “Or else.”

Aya beams at him, and Mori shivers at the implied threat.

The three of them clean up the board game quietly, not having to speak to reassure each other. Aya slides the shogi board back onto the shelf. The three of them sit on the floor for a moment, silent, but comfortable.

“I'm glad we're here, right now,” Aya says softly.

“Yeah,” Mori agrees, a smile crossing his lips. “Me, too.”

* * *

 

About two minutes after Aya and Yuko leave, Mori gets a knock on his window. Sighing, he walks over and opens it.

It’s the runner from the Hokage’s Tower.

“I’ll be there,” he answers, and the messenger nods before he shunshins away.

Mori shrugs on his slightly less dirty vest and exits his apartment, locking the door behind him. He spins his keys around his finger as he leaves the building and steps out onto the streets. The air is cool, a slight breeze brushing past his face.

The walk to the Hokage’s Tower is rather quick and uneventful.

The guards let him in and up the stairs. Mori nods to the jounin standing outside the Hokage’s office as he enters the room.

There’s two people there, this time. Mori’s not surprised.

“Hello, Hokage-sama,” Mori says, ducking into a bow. “Jiraiya-sama.”

“Hey, kid,” the Sage greets him, eyeing him a little curiously. “Heard something happened to your seal.”

Mori smiles uncertainly and grips the fabric of his vest. “Yes.”

“Well, let’s get to it, shall we?”

Mori takes off his vest and his shirt, revealing the burns that now cover a good portion of his upper chest. Jiraiya’s eyes narrow and he moves forward, studying the seal.

It takes a long time. Jiraiya frowns over the kanji burnt onto his chest; the Sandaime watches patiently from his position on the side of the room. Mori stands silently, breathing in and out.

Finally, Jiraiya pauses. He looks at Mori, eyes serious.

“No more fucking around, kid,” Jiraiya says, his voice low. “Who put that seal on you?”

Mori backs up from Jiraiya, frowning. “Does it --”

“Yes, it matters,” Jiraiya snaps. “Look. I let it go last time. Clearly, you didn’t want to talk about it -- but right now, _Konoha’s_ at stake.”

He jabs a finger at Mori’s chest, the burnt skin still tender. “You said you weren’t a threat to Konoha, didn’t you?”

“I’m _not,”_ Mori insists.

“Right,” Jiraiya says, in a tone that makes it clear that he doesn’t entirely trust it. _“Who put that seal on you?”_

Mori stiffens, feeling his fingers curl. “...The Kyuubi,” he answers, after a pause.

Jiraiya’s eyes widen in shock. He steps back, frowning. “The -- the _Kyuubi?”_ he asks, startled.

Mori closes his eyes and grits his teeth. “Yes.”

“What -- what happened to _Naruto?”_ the Sandaime asks, his voice hoarse.

Mori takes a shaky breath.

“It was painful for everyone involved,” Mori says, his voice deceptively neutral. “I - I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, Hokage-sama. But --” he freezes.

 _A hand closes around his throat. His vision fades, in and out -- time is running out, the village burns,_ kill the jinchuuriki --

“It’s -- it’s not pleasant,” he manages to get out.

“The _Kyuubi,”_ Jiraiya says, closing his eyes. “Shit, that makes sense. Fuck. _Fuck._ This -- this _really_ isn’t good, sensei.”

He starts to pace the room, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Mori watches, feeling his chest start to ache.

“What does it do?” The Hokage asks.

Mori rubs his seal uncomfortably.

“It’s -- well. The main seal still hasn’t changed, so there’s that,” Jiraiya says. “Technically, Hayakawa would still, theoretically, be able to ‘restart’ in the event that he, uh, dies.”

“But?” Mori prompts.

Jiraiya pauses in his pacing to stare at him, his eyes narrowed. Mori flinches under his scrutiny.

“You -- you really don’t know what it does, huh?” Jiraiya says.

“No.”

Jiraiya screws his eyes shut. “Okay. So. Well. Space-time seals. There are a couple different kinds, but here the most relevant one is the transporting kind.”

“Okay…” Mori says slowly.

“Transporting seals need an anchor,” Jiraiya says. “Your anchor was your soul. You’re tied to yourself, if that makes any sense -- that’s why you end up as _you_ and not as someone else when you get sent back in time.”

“I get it.”

Jiraiya twists his mouth. “I’m guessing you had a fever when you first arrived.”

Mori blinks, surprised. “Yes,” he says. “Is that significant?”

“Unfortunately,” Jiraiya mutters. “Your chakra acting weird?”

“The nurse said something about that,” Mori says uneasily. “But that’s natural, right? With fevers?”

“Not in this case,” Jiraiya says. “Usually, your chakra acts weird because of a fever. But here -- you had a fever because your chakra was acting weird.”

Mori’s apprehension intensifies.

“What does this mean, Jiraiya?” the Sandaime asks.

“I don’t know if you remember what I said last time,” Jiraiya says. “About the storage seal component.”

Mori presses his lips together. “...You said it was ‘excessive’.”

Jiraiya licks his lips. “...The additions to your seal,” he says. “It’s added an anchor component.”

Mori stares.

“The anchor is your soul,” Jiraiya says. “But it’s not transporting you.”

“The storage seals,” the Sandaime says, eyes widening in understanding. “It’s -- are you _sure?”_

“I don’t want to be,” Jiraiya answers.

“There’s something else?” Mori demands. “What does it do?”

“Your seal,” Jiraiya says. “That foreign chakra in your seal from before -- it’s expanded.”

 _The Kyuubi?_ Mori thinks, a flash of panic running through his mind. _It’s expanded?_

“That’s why your chakra was acting strangely,” Jiraiya says. “You were trying to adjust to the influx of energy.”

“What…?” Mori whispers.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” Jiraiya asks. “The burning.”

Mori clutches his seal. “I don’t…” he says. “I don’t understand…”

Jiraiya grimaces. “What I’m trying to say is that all those excessive storage seals were _for storing the Kyuubi’s chakra.”_

Mori chokes. _“What?"_

“That seal isn’t sealing away the Kyuubi's chakra,” Jiraiya says. “It’s holding it."

His mouth is dry, his palms moist. "Like -- like a jinchuuriki?”

“You’re not a jinchuuriki,” Jiraiya says lowly. “You’re a _doorway.”_

Mori crosses his arms over his seal and steps backward. He stares at the ground.

_A doorway…?_

"It’ll only take a couple more triggers before the Kyuubi --”

“Stop,” Mori says weakly, taking another step backward. He feels his back hit the wall, and he slides down, a bitter taste in his mouth. _“Stop.”_

“No,” Jiraiya says. “I’m sorry -- this is probably the last thing you want to hear right now. But you can’t die. Not again.”

“How many chances are left?” the Sandaime asks.

“I don’t know,” Jiraiya answers. “It’s not complete yet -- there’s no telling how many more times he can die. It could be three times. Could be once.”

 _One chance,_ is what Mori hears. _One chance to stop the Massacre. One chance to save Itachi._

_One chance to stop the Kyuubi from breaking out._

He clutches his chest, biting his lip. Mori ducks his head down, his breathing shallow.

The only question is: will the Kyuubi break free from him, or from Uzumaki Naruto?

* * *

 

He stares at his barbecue with a blank gaze, pushing around the food with his chopsticks.

His stomach grumbles. He's not hungry.

_You're not a jinchuuriki. You're a doorway._

Mori grimaces at runs a hand through his hair.

He was so stupid. He was _so, so_ stupid.

_Every time you trigger the seal, that's one step closer to unleashing the Kyuubi._

Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Why did he let the Kyuubi do this to him?

Why didn't he _think?_

He _knew_ that the Kyuubi wanted something out of it. He _knew_ that there was more at stake than just ‘survival’.

But he’d been so focused on fixing his own life, trying to solve his own problems… he didn't want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about the Kyuubi.

He picks up a chunk of rice and sticks it in his mouth half-heartedly. It tastes like gravel.

 _I can't die,_ he thinks.

He didn't want to die anyway, but now it's not even an option anymore. He'll come back and live long enough to see his village burn. _Again._

He has a demon inside him, now. He’s a gate. A doorway.

He screws his eyes shut. _Fuck._

Someone slides into the seat next to him. Mori looks over and blinks.

“Oh, hi, Iruka.”

Iruka turns over and looks at him. “Bad day?”

“Very,” Mori breathes out.

“Yeah. You're not enjoying your barbecue,” Iruka says. He smiles tentatively at Mori, and Mori shrugs back.

“How’s life?” Mori asks.

“Busy,” Iruka mutters. “All these brats are so _wild.”_

“Children,” Mori agrees. “Troublesome.”

Iruka, sensing Mori’s need for a distraction, launches into a tale about the students he has. Unintentionally hilarious comments. Ridiculous situations. Light-hearted stories of kids being kids. Mori smiles and nods along in all the right places, but he can't get his mind off of the Kyuubi.

The _Kyuubi._ It wasn't enough to destroy Konoha three times and force him back into the past -- it had to rob him of his ability to _die,_ too.

“I have a question,” Mori suddenly blurts out, accidentally cutting Iruka off in the middle of his story.

Iruka blinks, a little startled, but he nods slowly.

“... What if it wasn't Uzumaki?” Mori asks.

Iruka frowns. “... What?”

“What if it wasn't Uzumaki?” Mori repeats. “Some other kid. Some other person entirely. Do you think it would be different?”

“What do you mean?” Iruka asks, slightly uneasy with the direction this is going in.

Mori feels his hand starting to drift up to his chest, so he consciously snaps it down.

 _What if I told you it was me?_ He wants to say.

“He’s an orphan, isn't he?” Mori asks. “No one cares about him. He's -- he’s lonely, doesn't even _know --”_ Mori forcibly cuts himself off there.

Iruka’s staring at him, open-mouthed.

“Just -- if it was someone you cared about,” Mori says, skirting dangerously close to the truth. “Do you think you’d feel different?”

“Where's this coming from, senpai?” Iruka asks, eyebrows knitting together in worry.

“I -- I saw him, earlier,” Mori says, a half-lie. Training with his team, a lifetime ago.

_He looks just like the Yondaime!_

“He was standing there -- in the park. And -- _god,_ he looked so lonely. That was _me,_ Iruka.”

“You're not lonely,” Iruka protests. “You've got Aya and Yuko and Izo, and me and Kenji --”

“That's not what I'm talking about,” Mori says. “I -- I was really quiet as a kid. I didn’t… whatever. But -- I just -- I just saw a little of myself in him. That's all.”

 _Demon,_ something whispers in his mind. _Both of you, demons._

A loud clatter startled both of them out of their thoughts.

They whip their heads around. Buckets of soapy water spill across the cobblestones. An angry shopkeeper brandishing a mop storms out of their shop from across the street.

“Out! I won't have you tainting my business!”

“What's it to _you_ , old man?” A young voice shouts back, fierce and on the verge of tears. “I -- I was just looking! I wasn’t going to --”

“Stop causing trouble!” The shopkeeper sneers. He levels the stick end of the mop at a young boy, sprawled out on the ground. The boy clutches a bundle of orange cloth, angry tears spilling down his face.

“Why…?” He croaks out. “I don't even _know_ you, why do you --”

The shopkeeper scowls and raises his mop up high into the air.

“Shut your mouth, demon brat!”

The boy closes his eyes and flinches.

Something in Mori snaps.

_Crack._

Mori stands above the fallen shopkeeper, holding the mop in his hands. The shopkeeper is sprawled out on the floor, staring up in shock.

Mori looks down at his hands. They’re steady, firmly gripping the handle of the mop. _What am I doing?_ He thinks.

“You,” he says distantly, as if he’s riding along and someone else is doing the talking for him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m protecting my business,” the shopkeeper hisses. “That’s the _demon_ brat --”

Mori’s hand snakes out and hauls up the man by his collar. The shopkeeper’s eyes widen and he trembles in Mori’s grip.

“There’s laws about this, you know?” Mori says, low and threatening. “Don’t hit children. Don’t be an _asshole.”_ He leans forward and speaks into the man’s ear, quiet enough that they can’t be overheard. “You could be _killed_ for talking about the Kyuubi in front of him.”

The man trembles, his breath coming out in frantic gasps. “I - I understand, shinobi-san!” he whimpers.

Mori lets go of his collar, letting the man drop to the ground. Recklessly, he digs out a wad of cash and tosses it at the shopkeeper. “That should be enough to cover whatever he wanted.”

It’s not, but the shopkeeper is shivering and about to throw up, so he nods.

Mori turns around, intensely aware of all the eyes watching him. A crowd of civilians stands around them. He flicks his eyes over, and they turn away, hurriedly leaving the scene.

Iruka is kneeling next to Uzumaki, helping him sit up. He’s tense, uncomfortable -- but Iruka was never one to let his personal feelings get in the way.

Naruto stares at the teenager with stars in his eyes. His mouth is slightly open, and he accepts Iruka’s help hesitantly, as if he doesn’t want Iruka to disappear.

His blue eyes are open wide. Words flash through Mori’s mind.

_Protect my son._

_You’ll save Uzumaki Naruto, of that I have no doubt._

_...naive enough to_ love _this miserable hellhole…_

Mori takes a step forward, and Naruto looks up, turning his wide-eyed gaze onto him. It’s scared and hopeful and innocent all at the same time.

For the first time, he sees more than just a demon. More than a burden. More than the Yondaime's son. He sees a child.

Mori moves a little closer, and he kneels down in front of the boy. “That’s a nice jacket,” he says, barely aware of the words leaving his mouth.

Naruto clutches the orange bundle in his hands and holds it tightly. “...Really?” he asks quietly. “You -- you really think so?”

He stares at him, part suspicion, part hope. The jacket is a jarring shade of orange -- bright and chunky, and not at all fashionable.  But Mori can't say that, not with this six year old boy gazing at him with hope and longing and a tinge of fear.

“Yeah,” Mori answers, a lump in his throat. “It’s my favorite color.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S ABOUT TIME, MORI. do you know how long I have been waiting to bring Naruto into this? SO LONG.  
> (the fact that Mori's unintentionally dragging Iruka into protecting the kid makes me grin.)
> 
> Also: I wanted there to be some kind of consequence to resetting, you know? Whenever the return by death thing is used, it kind of feels like all the problems would be solved if you killed the guy and that's a really depressing feeling to have. (yes, that's a re:zero reference.)  
> also, there's only so many times I can kill off my own creation haha. (but really... who knows?)
> 
> And finally: it feels kind of like a cop out to throw in that flashback into this chapter? Maybe after I finish this whole thing I'll go back and edit and rearrange things so it'll flow better BUT i'm using this to procrastinate on homework right now so editing can wait.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated! <3


	16. The Massacre, Part 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, huh? Real life dragged me through the mud and kicked me in the ass, but thankfully Thanksgiving Break was a thing and I had time, so here we go!
> 
> Slight recap, because it's been so long: Mori is a doorway for the Kyuubi, a wild Naruto appeared (and so did Mori's morals), and the Uchiha are a bunch of plotting, treacherous weirdoes. Also, Izo knows about the time travel. And Issei, Chie, and Riku are trying to find out what it means to be a team.
> 
> Let's go.

The Yugakure mission isn’t theirs.

The day that his genin approach him about getting a C-Rank is uncomfortably similar to how it was before. Chie makes the demand, Riku and Issei by her side. Mori hesitates -- though this time, for different reasons than before -- and ends up conceding.

Before he knows it, they’re standing in the Hokage’s office, and he’s trying not to make his worry too obvious in front of everyone else in the room.

Mori’s both surprised and relieved when the Hokage hands him a completely different mission file. His genin try their best to not jump out of their shoes as he flips through the file, taking in the new information and committing it to memory.

 _It’s not the Yugakure mission,_ he thinks with relief. He feels a weight lift off of his shoulders, and he smiles genuinely as he tells the Hokage that they’ll take it. He does not question the change.

In this timeline, their first C-rank is an investigation into a series of petty thefts in the eastern parts of Konoha. In this timeline, their first C-rank is a brilliant success, a beautiful demonstration of teamwork and of capability. There are no mistakes, no missteps. It flows, smooth and uninterrupted, and his students glow with pride as they recount their success to their Hokage.

Their successful missions lead to more missions. Their first C-rank leads to others.

Mori doesn’t fully understand what caused the change until later on, and by then, it's a bit too late.

* * *

 

“Here you go, Team Four,” the Sandaime says, sliding a folder across the desk.

With some trepidation, Mori picks up the file and flips through it. He carefully keeps the frown off of his face and glances up to meet the Hokage’s eyes.

“Any other missions?” he tries, though he knows what the answer will be.

Behind him, Issei grunts. Chie stomps on his foot. Riku sighs.

“This is the mission I have for you,” the Sandaime answers, his voice slightly firmer.

Mori nods, lowering his gaze. “I understand.”

As soon as the door closes behind them, Issei scoffs.

“What is it _this_ time?” Riku asks, with still a bit of hope in his eyes.

“Guarding the Archives,” Mori says, taking care to filter any of his frustration out of his voice.

He doesn’t want to further encourage his team’s annoyance with the Hokage. He suspects that it doesn’t quite work.

“In the village?” Riku tries, still holding out hope for something new.

Mori nods.

Chie grimaces as Issei rolls his eyes.

“Again?” Chie asks. “We’ve had that mission, like, three times already! Aren’t there other genin teams that can guard the Archives?”

“The Archives are important,” Riku says, though his explanation sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. “We need to have someone guarding it.”

“But us?” Chie complains. “We've taken more C-ranks than _any_ of the other genin teams. And _completed_ all of them, mind you. _Successfully.”_

“Chie,” Mori says, a warning.

She frowns, petulant. Beside her, Riku looks weary. Issei looks about ready to murder someone.

“We'll complete this mission,” Mori says. “And then I'll talk to the Hokage.”

“Okay,” Chie answers, glum.

“Same formation as last time?” Riku asks.

“I want to switch with Chie,” Issei says. “At least people pass by in the front.”

“Well, I don’t want to be in the back,” Chie scowls.

Issei twists his mouth into a frown as they continue their walk.

“...Rock, paper, scissors,” he offers.

Chie narrows her eyes.

Two seconds later, Issei is walking up front with a smug smirk on his lips, while Chie trails behind, grimacing. Riku and Mori try not to laugh.

Their pace is leisurely, unhurried. By the time the four of them reach the Archives, what little amusement there was has worn off, leaving them staring at the entrance with apathetic eyes.

“You know what to do?” Mori asks.

“Yes, sensei,” the genin chorus. It's their third time guarding the Archives; they all know the layout far better than they ever thought they would.

“No slacking,” he reminds them. “Go.”

Chie and Riku head into the darkened halls to start patrolling the inside. Issei sets himself up near the front and closes his eyes.

He's not sleeping, this time -- he’s listening. Mori can feel him practicing channeling his chakra to his ears.

After five consecutive C-ranks on _guard duty_ , his genin have learned how to deal with the boredom as best as they could while still paying enough attention to their surroundings. Mori’s teaching them how to use their chakra to enhance their senses; it was the only thing that could motivate them when they received the same types of missions over and over again.

He sighs. Time slows to an agonizing crawl.

Mori understands the Hokage’s decision -- really, he does. The last thing he wants to do is end up _dying_ and releasing the Kyuubi on Konoha once more. He completely understands the Sandaime’s reasoning for keeping him and his team within the village -- in sight, in range, and easy to defend.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Mori is still the jounin sensei for Team 4. It doesn’t change the fact that they need the experience outside of the village, that they need to face challenges before they’re ready to be promoted to Chuunin.

It doesn’t change the fact that guard duty is _boring as hell._

He’s been trying his best to hide his irritation -- it’s not exactly the best example to set for his genin -- but honestly, it’s been _months,_ and Mori’s drawing closer to his limit.

To keep himself awake, Mori counts the tiles on the floor; keeps track of every time the faint light above him flickers. In front of him, Issei yawns and stares blankly out the door and into the streets.

Mori’s on two-hundred and forty-three tiles and eighteen light flickers when Issei twitches.

Mori’s head snaps up, suddenly alert. His eyes land on the area outside the door.

“Issei?” he asks.

Issei frowns as he peers outside the Archives. He tilts his head. “... I think it’s that Naruto kid?”

Mori’s eyes widen. “Oh?”

He walks over to Issei’s position and stares out, searching.

“He went behind that cart,” Issei says, scowling as he points out a food cart across the street. “But then I lost track of him --”

_“Mori-san!”_

Issei jumps as a small child sprints in from their left, nearly knocking them over. Mori lets Naruto crash into his side and calls up a smile as the boy hugs his leg.

“Hi, Naruto,” he says, and the boy lifts his face up and beams at him.

Mori smiles back. Issei rolls his eyes and settles back into his lookout position.

“Did I scare you?” Naruto asks Issei, his warm smile subtly shifting into one of mischievous glee.

“No,” Issei snaps, defensive. He crosses his arms and glares at the kid.

Naruto sticks his tongue out at the older boy. Issei glances up at Mori, his eyes practically screaming _make him go away._

Mori tries to keep his amusement off his face, but judging by Issei’s darkening glare, he’s unsuccessful.

“Why are you here?” Naruto almost shouts, making Issei’s eyes twitch. “You were here two weeks ago!”

“Not so loud, kid,” Mori says, and he starts to untangle Naruto’s arms from his leg. “We’re guarding the place.”

Naruto stares at him with wonder. “Do so many people attack that they need you to guard it all the time?” he asks. “That’s awesome!”

“If _only,”_ Issei mutters, and Mori suppresses his own sarcastic commentary.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Mori asks, and he manages to fully detach Naruto from his leg.

Naruto stiffens for a moment before smiling brightly. “It’s okay!” he declares. “School’s easy!”

“That doesn’t answer his question,” Issei mutters.

“Naruto,” Mori says, looking at the boy a little harshly. “Iruka will be looking for you.”

Naruto’s smile dims a little bit at that.

Mori mentally slaps himself and softens his expression.

“Why did you leave?” Mori asks.

Naruto shrinks back a little and scratches the back of his neck. “... I didn’t want to go,” he says.

The boy’s grin is all teeth and no meaning. A forced smile.

Mori twists his mouth, feeling a sharp stab of guilt.

Naruto’s lonely. Mori’s known this already -- sometimes it feels like he's known it his whole life -- but it…

Well, it didn't _bother_ him before.

Since that incident with the shopkeeper, Naruto’s been almost desperately attached to Iruka, and to some extent, Mori. And he'd _grown_ on them.

Naruto’s bright and funny and painfully idealistic. He’s honest in the way only a child can be -- a breath of fresh air among the lies and deceit of the shinobi world. He shoulders the glares from the villagers almost too well, reminding Iruka and Mori how _they’d_ felt about the kid before.

He'd been perfectly content to ignore the kid, but now…

“You should go back,” Mori says. “I know it's…it’s hard. But Iruka will be looking for you. And you can't become a ninja if you don't graduate the Academy first, yeah?”

Naruto nods, but he presses his lips together in an attempt to hide his disappointment.

“The Academy isn’t so bad,” Mori tries to reason. “You learn a lot there.”

“But it’s all _useless,_ ” Naruto complains. “Who cares about who started the First Shinobi World War? They’re all dead!”

Issei coughs to hide his laughter.

“You never know when history might come in handy,” Mori mutters, thinking about how little he remembered about the Kyuubi attack.

“It’s such a bore!” Naruto continues. “We don’t even get to handle blunted kunai yet! There’s nothing interesting going on!”

“Either way, you still have to graduate,” Mori reminds him.

“I know,” Naruto says. “But it’s _annoying.”_

Mori pats the kid on his head, a small comfort. “Go back to school. Do your best.”

“Okay,” Naruto answers, but he doesn’t look happy about it. He sighs and starts to turn around, most likely to head back to the Academy.

“Naruto-kun,” Mori calls out, before the kid can disappear.

The boy whips his head around and looks back.

“...Have a nice day.”

Naruto blinks and stares at him for a moment. Then he grins -- and this time, it’s genuine.

“See you later, Mori-san!” he calls out, lifting his hand into a salute.

Before he runs off, Naruto sticks his tongue out at Issei. Issei grimaces. The blond boy disappears off into the streets.

Mori breathes out. He likes the kid, but talking to him is always a little overwhelming. He’s a hurricane.

Mori starts to turn around to head back to his post.

“Why do you indulge him?” Issei asks, before he can walk away.

“Huh?”

Issei is frowning out at the streets again, a thoughtful expression.

“He's loud,” Issei says. “And annoying. He's worse than Chie on a bad day, _and_ he's not a ninja yet -- there's no reason for you to talk to him.”

Mori flicks his eyes over to the direction of the street.

“There's no reason for me to _not_ talk to him, either,” Mori says quietly.

The statement is almost more for himself than for Issei. He's run out of excuses for ignoring the kid, and to his surprise, that wasn't entirely a bad thing.

Issei opens his mouth, as if to protest -- but then he stops himself.

Mori looks over at the boy.

Issei probably would have been old enough to remember the Sandaime’s announcement, but his parents or guardians likely kept that information from him. Issei’s probably been told to avoid the kid, but Mori doubts he knows _why_ Naruto is so despised by the village.

“I guess not,” Issei says with a huff. He settles back into his position with his arms crossed and a thoughtful frown on his lips.

Mori shakes his head and goes back to counting floor tiles.

* * *

 

“A successful C-Rank,” the Hokage muses. “Here's your pay.”

Three bags of money are tossed across the desk. Issei, Chie, and Riku snatch up their payment and bow to the Sandaime. But there's a stiffness in their actions -- enough that anyone can tell that they're all a little displeased.

Mori takes a deep breath and looks at the Hokage.

_If I'm going to speak up, it has to be now._

Mori opens his mouth, preparing to ask the Sandaime for a C-rank outside the village.

The Sandaime beats him to it.

“Team Four,” the old man says. “You are dismissed. Hayakawa, stay behind -- I’d like to speak with you.”

Mori blinks, surprised. “Yes, sir.”

His team carefully files out the door. Mori looks back as they leave.

Riku nods to him. Issei gives him a pointed look. Chie beams and gives him a thumbs up.

The door closes.

Mori waits for a few moments. He feels a little bit of guilt -- he probably wasn't hiding his displeasure well enough -- but he's also hopeful. Maybe this is the conversation where they can find middle ground.

The Sandaime looks weary. He rubs his temples and sighs quietly. The seconds pass in silence.

When the Sandaime doesn't say anything, Mori opens his mouth.

“Hokage-sama, I would like to request an out-of-village mission for my team.”

The Sandaime doesn't react at that statement. Mori risks a glance -- he can't tell if the man is disappointed or resigned or what.

Mori waits another moment before speaking again. “I think it would be beneficial for my team to gain experience outside of Konoha,” he continues. “I know the risks, and I acknowledge your concerns, but a C-rank outside of the village is important to the growth of my team. Also -- I believe I can handle a C-Rank.”

Mori doesn't want to die, knows that it's not an option, but he doesn't want to live in a bubble, either.

He was in ANBU. He's a jounin. Surely the Hokage isn’t so paranoid that he'd prevent Mori from leaving Konoha _completely_ \--

“Here,” the Sandaime says with a sigh, and he slides a folder across his desk.

Mori picks up the folder and mentally cheers in triumph. Honestly, he thought it would take more convincing…

_Wait. What?_

“You leave tomorrow morning,” the Sandaime says.

“... This isn't for my team,” Mori says, glancing up from the file.

The Sandaime, again, doesn't react.

Mori looks back down to the file and runs through the mission details again.

_Three-man team. Mid B-Rank._

_Objective(s): Deliver message scroll to Doro Mining Conpany (1). Investigate company to determine borders of mines. Sabotage if necessary._

“This isn't for my team,” Mori repeats. “And a mid B-rank -- I thought we were being careful?”

“You were requested, by name,” the Sandaime says wearily. “... I don't believe there will be many problems. But still…”

Mori frowns. “Requested by _name?_ Isn't that a bit suspicious?”

“I trust him,” the Hokage says, firm. “And you will have one of my own ANBU accompany you. Should anything go wrong, you will be well protected.”

Mori’s fingers curl around the edges of the file.

 _It's a test,_ he realizes.

Mid B-Rank -- reasonably difficult, but with ANBU protection. Supervision. Ensuring that he's capable enough to lead a genin team outside of Konoha.

Depending on how well he does on this mission, the Hokage will either tighten his leash or increase his freedom. Depending on how well he does on this mission, he'll either open up the possibility for out-of-village C-Ranks for his team or shut it down for good.

“Someone will supervise your team while you're gone,” the Sandaime says. “At most, this mission will take a two or three weeks.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Mori answers, still staring at the mission file.

“Hayakawa-san,” the Sandaime says, his voice low and serious. Mori looks up and meets the old man’s eyes.

They’re dark. Concern, stress, _fatigue._

It's times like this when it strikes Mori how _old_ the Sandaime is. _If only I could've saved the Yondaime..._

“I trust you understand what's at stake?”

Mori bites his lip. The seal on his chest burns, and he swallows nervously.

“I understand,” he answers. “Thank you for this opportunity, Hokage-sama.”

“Be careful,” the Sandaime says. “You are dismissed.”

Mori bows and exits the Hokage’s office, the mission file still in his hands. He strides down the hall; his students are probably waiting down by the front door.

As he walks he grips the papers tightly. A B-Rank.

He's taken worse missions, but somehow it feels like this might be one of the more memorable ones.

* * *

 

He and Aya break the news to his team the next morning, before Mori has to leave on his mission. They stand in Training Ground Twelve, the sky still lightening with the sunrise.

Mori has his bag slung over his shoulders, and his students stare at him with a mixture of disappointment and envy.

“Three weeks?” Chie asks, crestfallen. “That's such a long time!”

“Three weeks at the _most,”_ Mori reassures his students, patting Chie on the head. “I'll be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” Riku says, easily accepting this turn of events.

“I'm guessing Masuko-san will be supervising us,” Issei drawls, arms crossed. He glances at the woman standing next to Mori.

Aya beams at him. Issei scowls.

“Yes,” Mori says. “She’ll watch you guys. If she takes you on any missions, it'll probably be D-Ranks --”

 _“No,”_ his students groan.

“-- but she'll be training you guys for the most part,” Mori finishes.

Aya grins widely and claps her hands together. “It'll be fun,” she says brightly. “Mori said I can start teaching you elemental ninjutsu!”

His students’ eyes widen.

Mori nods, laughing at their ecstatic expressions. “Pay attention. She's better at ninjutsu than me.”

Aya punches Mori in the arm, and he rolls his eyes.

“Don't listen to him,” Aya says. “He's just being humble. But yeah, ninjutsu. We're gonna have a lot of fun.”

Issei nods, suddenly less disappointed with this turn of events. Mori can see the determination in his gaze, the ambition. He's going to throw everything he has into learning ninjutsu, Mori can tell.

“Can you tell us anything about your mission, sensei?” Riku asks.

“It's still in Fire Country,” he says. “I’m not going far. Just a good old-fashioned courier mission.”

And an investigation and possible sabotage, but his _main_ objective is delivering a scroll.

“Oh,” Chie says. “That sounds… nice.”

Mori looks over at her.

She looks a little hesitant, a little nervous. Chie grips the edge of her shirt and stares at him with wide eyes.

Mori places a hand on her shoulder.

“Don't worry about me,” he says, squeezing her shoulder. “I'll be back soon. And I expect you all to improve, okay? Don't slack off.”

“Yes, sensei!”

Chie’s troubled expression shifts into a smile, and Mori grins.

He backs up and lifts his hand up in a small wave.

“I'll be back,” he promises.

_And we'll have a better mission to go on, too._

“Good luck, sensei!” Chie says. Riku echoes the sentiment, and Issei nods.

“Stay safe,” Aya says.

“I promise,” Mori replies.

Then he turns around and heads toward the gates. He’s at the edge of the clearing, just about to leave, when he looks back at his team.

Aya’s already got his students moving. They’re running through their warm-ups as Aya cheers them on.

His eyes light up with determination, and he turns away.

 _I need to pass this mission,_ he thinks to himself, and with that, he takes to the rooftops and starts heading toward the gates.

* * *

 

Mori arrives at the gates about five minutes early, but it turns out one of his new teammates beat him to it -- because Izo is also standing there, his own bag packed.

“You're on this mission, too?” Mori asks, pleasantly surprised. “And you're _early?”_

“Yeah,” Izo says, but he doesn't rise to Mori’s bait. His voice is tight and tense. “Do you know what this is about?”

It's no ordinary mission, that's for sure.

“Somewhat,” Mori answers. “He’s testing me, that much I know. I’ve been on a tight leash lately because of… uh.”

“Your temporal adventures,” Izo mutters quietly, and Mori winces.

He hasn’t told Izo about the Kyuubi. He couldn’t bring himself to.

He doesn’t know how his friend would react if he told Izo that he was holding a demon in his chest.

“If this mission is successful, he’ll probably lighten up,” Mori thinks out loud.

“There's more to it than that, though,” Izo says. “What did you _do?”_

Mori does his best to remain relaxed. “What are you talking about?”

“My main objective on this mission is to ‘protect you’,” Izo says. “That's what Hokage-sama told me.”

Mori curls and uncurls his fingers.

“Well… he said I was requested for this mission by name,” Mori offers, deflecting Izo from the topic of time travel and his seal.

Then he blinks.

 _I was requested by name,_ Mori repeats in his head. _That's… not normal._

People don't just _request_ Hayakawa Mori for a mission. He may be skilled, but he's unremarkable -- not to mention, busy training a genin team.

“Someone requested you?” Izo asks.

“Yeah,” Mori says, somewhat distractedly. He pulls out his own mission file, flips it open, and leafs through the papers.

“Doro Mining Company,” he comments. He narrows his eyes. “If we were supposed to investigate them, they wouldn't be requesting me.”

“True,” Izo says. “So… someone _in_ Konoha requested you, then.”

“That's weird,” Mori muses.

 _The Sandaime probably wouldn't do this without prompting,_ he thinks. _Which means someone else in Konoha requested me…_

“Do you know who our third teammate is?” Mori asks, a sense of apprehension sneaking in.

Izo opens his mouth to say something and then blinks. “Actually… I don't,” he says. “The Hokage didn't tell me.”

Mori bites his lip.

He wasn't told either. Mori didn't think much of it at the time, but now it's starting to seem really, really important.

“I don't really stand out enough to warrant a specific request,” Mori says uncomfortably.

“No,” Izo agrees, though not unkindly.

“... That means I've caught someone's attention,” Mori says.

“I hope they're cute,” Izo mutters, and Mori punches him on the shoulder.

“Sorry, it's a reflex,” Izo answers, lifting his arms in surrender.

Mori rolls his eyes, but the banter doesn't lessen the atmosphere of unease settling down on their shoulders.

Mori goes through a mental list. There aren't many people within the village who are taking an interest in him, are there?

Izo and Mori stand in front of the village gates, apprehensive. It's still a few more minutes before the time they were supposed to meet up with their third teammate. Mori finds his eyes darting around from person to person, studying the ninja passing through.

He tries to think what he might have done since dying that could've grabbed someone's attention. Really, all he's done this past year was train his team and occasionally talk to Itachi or Iruka or Naruto… the Hokage would have spoken up if he disapproved of his interactions with the kid, right?

More ninja pass through. Mori appraises each one as they go by, his anxiety increasing as each second passes.

Which one is their teammate? Whose attention did he catch?

Suddenly, Izo’s eyes widen, and he chokes on air.

“Shit,” Izo coughs out, regaining his breath. _“Fuck.”_

Mori turns around -- and he stiffens.

“Please tell me he's not walking this direction,” Izo mutters.

Said person _is_ walking in their direction, unfortunate though it is. Mori feels a part of himself shrivel up and die -- _just my goddamn luck --_ but he shoves it aside for now.

Mori elbows a near-panicked Izo in the soft part of his stomach. “Act natural,” he hisses. “I’d rather _not_ die today, thank you very much.”

Izo nods and takes a breath, erasing any hint of unease off of his face. Together, they shift positions -- facing the person approaching them. Open, but defensive.

“I'm guessing you're our third teammate?” Mori asks, keeping his voice light and unconcerned.

Uchiha Shisui grins as he walks up, revealing his teeth. “Yeah,” he says, holding out a hand to shake. “Uchiha Shisui.”

“Hayakawa Mori,” Mori offers, and he takes the hand. Beside him, Izo’s face is cold and blank.

“Oh, I know who you are,” Shisui says, and Mori has to subtly step on Izo’s foot to keep the other man from snapping and giving them away.

“Is that so?” Izo manages to say.

“‘Course I have,” Shisui says lightly, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a light smile. “Who hasn't heard Fugaku-sama complaining about Itachi’s favorite sensei?”

Mori grins at that comment, carefully wiping any tension off his face. “‘Favorite sensei’, he says?”

“Oh yeah,” Shisui nods. “Itachi-kun _adores you._ ”

“Nice to hear,” Mori answers. The implications of Shisui’s statement are not lost on him.

Shisui releases the handshake and turns his back on them to head toward the gates. “We should get going.”

Mori shifts the position of the bag on his back and watches as Shisui walks ahead of them.

 _“Shunshin no Shisui,”_ Izo mutters under his breath. “Mori, I don't like this.”

“Neither do I,” Mori replies, but he takes a step forward, moving to follow Shisui out of the village.

_“Mori.”_

They’re both thinking the same thing: _the Uchiha know. They’re onto us._

It’s no secret that Itachi respects Mori. And if Itachi had slipped up in any way, if the Uchiha doubted the boy’s loyalty for a _second,_ Mori would be the first one to fall under suspicion -- _is_ the first one under suspicion.

The Uchiha suspect Itachi. And they need to see how much Mori knows.

And if a B-rank mission goes wrong, and if the only one to make it out alive is an Uchiha _genius_ , who would question it?

“Sandaime-sama trusts him,” Mori recalls, reassuring himself.

There’s no way that the Sandaime would place Mori in a position that leads to his death -- there's too much at stake. There has to be more to this story.

“Is that enough?” Izo asks.

Mori grits his teeth. “It has to be.”

Uchiha Shisui pauses in his walk and looks back at them, as if to say, _are you coming?_

Mori takes a deep breath and takes another step forward, with Izo right on his heels.

“Let’s go,” he says.

He has a mission to pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! SHISUI HAS ARRIVED!  
> I'm so excited for this, you have no idea.
> 
> The plot returns! Mori's on a B-rank! And the dramatic irony increases ten-fold. Am I overusing it? Probably. Will I stop?
> 
> ...
> 
> Anyway, I'm glad I finally got this chapter out of the way because it's been sitting half-finished for too long. It's annoying because the outline is done but the writing part was just... hard. Rewarding, but hard. I finally decided "whatever" and sat down and just _wrote_ the whole thing all at once at like, 2 in the morning. Which made editing really fun (and by fun, I mean that it was a bit more painful than usual).
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated! I hope you all have a nice day! <3


	17. The Massacre, Part 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mori, Izo, and Shisui walk into a shioyaki stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH, slow updates. School got unexpectedly busy for the past few months, and _ain't no rest_ fell by the wayside. But that's okay, because here we are: finally got this nonsense chapter out of the way. 
> 
> Shout out to [calliopechild](http://archiveofourown.org/users/calliopechild/pseuds/calliopechild) and [timetophdail](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LMMN/pseuds/timetophdail) for their lovely reviews! These comments really motivated me to wrap up this chapter, so you can thank them for this update!
> 
> A recap: Mori and Team Four want a C-rank out of the village. The Sandaime sends Mori on a B-rank, without his team.  
> The B-rank is with Izo and Shizui, and Mori and Izo are panicking because _the Uchiha are onto them._
> 
> Let's get started.

Under different circumstances, Mori thinks Izo and Shisui would have gotten along well. They’re both casual, have similar attitudes, though Izo is more comfortable responding where Shisui is the one starting a conversation.

Shisui’s funny -- and not in a stupid or a ‘trying too hard’ sort of way; he's genuinely witty and entertaining, with an easy charisma that Mori doesn't usually associate with hotshot clan geniuses. But he’s also a good ninja. He knows when to shut up and be serious, knows how to do his job.

It would be easy to work with Shisui if he weren't an Uchiha.

“Doro Mining Company, huh?” Shisui comments as they make their way through the forests of Fire Country.

It's been nearly a day of traveling; the sun is starting to set. Mori starts keeping half his attention on finding good spots to make camp as they trek through the forest.

The rest of his attention is on the rather one-sided conversation between Izo and Shisui.

“Creative name they chose for themselves,” Shisui continues. “ _Dirt_ Mining Company.”

“Creative indeed,” Izo responds.

In any other context, it'd be his natural response to a mildly amusing observation. Right now, Izo’s words sound stiff and suspicious.

Mori elbows Izo in the side, and the Nara shoots him a weary glare.

Shisui blinks and turns to Mori, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Speaking of creative names --”

 _“Please,”_ Mori says, already knowing what will come next.

“ _Mori_ of _Konoha_ is pretty damn creative, too.”

Mori lifts his eyes up to the sky and breathes.

“... We should make camp,” Mori suggests, moving past Shisui’s comment. “It'll be getting dark soon.”

It’s not _too_ late, but Mori’s feeling rather drained right now. The sun is low in the sky, and the trees’ shadows are long and eerie.

“Yeah,” Izo agrees. “There's probably a good spot somewhere soon.”

“Up ahead,” Shisui says, staring out into the darkening forest. Mori feels the slightest shift in the Uchiha’s chakra, which means he's probably sensing or something similar. Shisui tilts his head slightly, and the motion reminds Mori a little bit of Itachi. “Maybe a quarter mile?”

“Okay,” Mori shrugs.

Izo and Mori fall into a half step behind Shisui, who slips into a slightly more hurried pace to reach their stopping point.

Izo scowls, lowering his voice so that Shisui can't listen in.

“I'll take the watch.”

“First?” Mori asks. Izo _never_ volunteers for first watch.

“All of it.”

Mori shoots a startled expression at his friend. “The whole night?”

“One of us has to.”

“Uchiha’s not going to murder me in my sleep.”

“And what if he _does?”_

“He's not _stupid,”_ Mori mutters. “The Sandaime still wants the mission completed. Why would you kill off your teammates the first night? So you can do everything by yourself?”

Izo falls silent.

“Get some rest tonight,” Mori says. “I’d be more worried about you watching my back during the mission than right now.”

“You’re right,” Izo concedes, crossing his arms. “But --”

“If it makes you feel better, let Uchiha take first,” Mori says. “If anything happens, you’d have better shadows to work with than in complete darkness.”

Izo nods.

A few minutes later, they pull up into a clearing. Shisui kicks some rocks around, clearing out some rough ground. Then he rolls out his bedroll and plops down onto it, lying down and tossing an arm over his eyes.

Mori and Izo do the same, going about the motions in silence.

The air is cooler, now. Mori can hear the crickets chirping around them, the faint flutter of bird wings and the shuffling of game around the forest. What little of the sky they can make out through the leaves above them is a soft shade of dark purple. A couple stars blink above them.

“You two are pretty quiet.” Shisui breaks the stillness, still covering his eyes with his arm.

“You're not used to silence, are you?” Mori wonders aloud.

Shisui likes to talk. Anyone could see that after spending a few hours in his company. He’s good at it, too -- there were times Mori almost felt himself letting his guard down despite the fact that Shisui was an _Uchiha_.

“I _am_ used to silence,” Shisui replies. He removes his arm from over his eyes and places both hands behind his head, looking up at the sky. “I just prefer conversation.”

_Used to silence._

A melancholy air settles over the camp. Shisui continues to stare at the sky, an unreadable expression on his generally open face. Mori can't help but think of Itachi: composed and calm and _so_ very quiet. Itachi was accustomed to silence as well -- the thought makes Mori fall back into his worried, troubling thoughts regarding the boy.

“I can take first watch, if you don't mind,” Shisui offers after a moment.

Izo and Mori exchange a glance.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Izo answers. “We don't mind.”

Four hours later, Izo wakes Mori up for the third shift.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens. Mori isn’t quite sure if that’s good or bad.

* * *

 

Doro Mining Company’s headquarters are in a small, business-oriented civilian village out in the forests of Fire Country. The closer they get, the more well-worn the roads become, and soon they don't have to rely on nature and chakra to point them in the right direction. As they move in, they descend from the trees and slow down to a leisurely pace, walking along the road.

The entire six-day journey is spent with either Shisui’s one-sided attempts at conversation or a tense silence. Shisui’s _definitely_ picked up on the fact that he is the outsider of their team, but he doesn't call them out on it. He seems to have been expecting it, really, which only raises more questions for Mori.

Why would the Sandaime assign him this mission if he wouldn't tell Mori about its real objectives? Why hide the fact that Uchiha Shisui requested his presence? If Shisui really _is_ on their side, why the need for secrecy?

Mori presses his lips together into a tight line. He glances over at the Uchiha.

Why is he _here?_

Shisui blinks and glances over, meeting Mori’s gaze. He even has the audacity to _smile._

Mori tries to keep the scowl off of his face as they continue walking, but he doesn't feel very successful.

Half a mile out from their destination, Izo opens his mouth.

“So, who’s doing what?” He asks.

“I'll investigate,” Mori says immediately. He's most comfortable sneaking around and being invisible, so it's the obvious choice.

Shisui nods in agreement. “I can deliver the scroll,” he offers. “Nara, with me?”

Izo and Mori carefully do not look at each other.

“Cool,” Izo shrugs.

“Try and stall as much as you can. Draw their attention,” Mori requests. “I’ll break into their main office and look through their files.”

“How much time will you need?” Izo asks him, pressing his lips together.

Mori thinks for a moment. “They’re just civilian records,” he says. “Shouldn't take too long.”

“Assuming there's nothing excessively shady going on in the background,” Shisui pipes up, and Mori can't stop himself from snorting in mild amusement.

Izo grunts. Mori kicks him in the shin.

“Let's rendezvous here, later,” Mori decides. They’re just outside of the town and along the road. “If I don't show in twenty-four hours, find the mines and sabotage them.”

“Got it,” Shisui replies. “You guys hungry? I think we still have a couple more hours before we have to meet up with the CEO. I could go for something fresh.”

“Food sounds nice,” Izo agrees. They’d only brought rations for their mission -- cheap and light, but not very tasty. Izo elbows Mori in the side and leans in. “Think they have shioyaki?”

“You’re so _cheap,”_ Mori groans. “Shioyaki isn't fresh. It’s not even a full meal.”

“Three sticks of salted fish and a water has all the components of a complete meal.”

“This is exactly why you’re so lazy and never have energy,” Mori grumbles. “Eat something healthy for once.”

Izo smirks. “I'm fairly certain the laziness is genetic.”

Shisui laughs at their banter, the sound making Izo falter at one of his steps. The smirk falls off of Izo’s lips, and he turns his wary eyes back onto Shisui.

“Anyway, food sounds nice,” Izo repeats, his voice a little bit stiffer than before.

Shisui eyes dim a little at Izo’s cold behavior, but other than that, he doesn't say anything.

Mori lifts his eyes up to the sky and accidentally steps on Izo’s foot.

“Ow.”

“You should loosen up,” Mori warns him, and he turns away from Izo to cast an apologetic expression in Shisui’s direction. “It takes a while for Izo to get used to other people,” he says. “Please don’t hold it against him.”

Behind his back and out of Shisui’s sight, Mori signs off a message to Izo in the ANBU sign language.

 _You’re making it obvious,_ Mori signs behind his back. _Reign it in._

“Oh, it’s fine,” Shisui says with an understanding smile. “I know a lot of people like that.”

When Mori turns back to Izo, he’s looking at Mori’s hands with a mildly surprised expression on his face.

“Let's find a shioyaki stand,” Shisui offers, grinning at Izo.

Izo takes a moment to stare at Shisui, suspicious. “Okay,” he says, but only after Mori lifts an eyebrow at him.

* * *

 

When the buildings of the town start to come into view, Mori casually slips off his hitai-ate and pockets it. He shrugs off his flak jacket and replaces it with a dark, long-sleeved shirt. He also slips off his weapons pouch and hides it in his pack.

“Going civilian?” Shisui asks.

“If they see three ninja walk into town, but only you two are delivering the scroll, they’re going to wonder where I am,” Mori answers.

Shisui makes a noise of understanding.

The road gradually leads into the village. The three ninja glance around the small village they're in -- more of a rest stop, really. What few buildings they see are sprawled out and low-leveled, with the exception of a single, five-story building with imposing angles and wide, glass windows.

“Kinda small,” Shisui comments, voicing their thoughts. “Guess that makes sense. It's a business stop. Probably only a few people actually live here.”

They walk around, peeking into empty stores and passing by a couple of lonely food stalls before Mori lands his eyes on a shioyaki stand a few minutes later. The owner sits behind the counter, reading what Mori is fairly certain is porn.

Shisui looks at Mori. Mori looks at Izo. Izo shrugs.

“Is that mackerel or salmon?” Shisui calls out, walking closer to the stand. He pats his pocket as he walks up, purposely letting the coins click together.

The owner glances up and straightens his back, slipping away his well-worn copy of _Icha Icha_ away. “Mackerel,” he answers. “It's forty ryo a stick.”

“I'll take one,” Shisui replies, pulling out his money and sliding it across the counter.  Mori and Izo pull up beside him and place their own orders. “Slow day?”

“Slow _life,_ more like it,” the owner snorts. He hands them all sticks of salted mackerel and shrugs. “Not much business in this area, anyway -- the only people who pass through are merchants and businesspeople.”

The stand owner eyes them curiously. “Konoha shinobi, though -- that's different.”

“We're escorting this guy,” Izo drawls, pointing his shioyaki stick at Mori before twirling it around and sticking it back in his mouth.

Mori rubs his head, partially self-conscious, partially to remind himself that he's not wearing his hitai-ate.

“Ahh. And where are you headed?” The owner turns his gaze onto Mori.

Mori opens his mouth, running through a list of locations in his head.

_Konoha wouldn't escort someone to Kumo or Iwa. Suna’s in the opposite direction..._

He blurts out the first place that comes to mind.

“Yugakure.”

Shisui's eyes flick over to him, curious. The corner of Izo’s mouth twitches up.

“Mmm, Yugakure, huh?” The shop owner wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “Hot springs vacation?”

“Maybe on the side,” Mori improvises. “I've… got a delivery to make.”

“Sounds exciting,” the owner replies.

Mori grins back, ignoring Izo’s quiet snort of amusement.

 _Yugakure, really?_ Mori thinks to himself.

Shisui takes charge of the conversation, now, steering it toward a less investigative topic.

“Your shioyaki’s pretty good,” Shisui says, and takes a bite out of it. He beams. “Is your stand pretty popular around here?”

The owner snorts. “I wish.” He leans forward conspiratorially and points toward the building that Mori will be breaking into later. “That big building behind you there? That's the headquarters for the mining company. A bunch of pretentious business-types. They don't eat my shioyaki.”

“A shame,” Shisui says, and he continues eating his fish. “They’re missing out.”

The owner smirks, flattered by Shisui’s compliments. “Thank you. It’s my family’s secret recipe.”

Mori, curious about the taste, takes a bite out of his salted fish.

It's _excessively_ salty, and Mori kind of understands why the business people avoid this particular stand.

“Do they stay inside a lot?” Izo asks, his tone one of casual curiosity.

“Mostly, yeah,” the owner muses. “But a huge group of them with this one girl go out for lunch at that place down the street.”

He points to a much nicer-looking restaurant, one with actual tables and a building rather than a stand.

“Huge group of them?” Izo muses. He glances over and meets Mori’s eyes.

It is getting close to lunchtime. With any luck, the building will be empty when he slips inside.

“They're like a pack of wolves,” the stand owner grunts. “Never by themselves.”

 _Interesting._ Mori takes a mental note of that information.

“Who's the girl?” Izo asks the owner.

“I dunno, probably one of their girlfriends or something,” the guy replies. “She's got a fancy necklace and a nice rack.”

 _And of course that’s all that matters,_ Mori thinks, mentally rolling his eyes. He takes another bite of his shioyaki and tries not to wince at the taste.

“She'd be pretty if she weren't a pretentious asshole,” the owner continues with a scowl. “She laughs at my stand every time they walk by. Who doesn't eat shioyaki?”

 _The pretentious business-types that populate this area,_ Mori thinks to himself, but he doesn't say that out loud.

“... Have you considered changing your business?” Izo asks, bemused. “You'd probably get more customers if you sold something else. Or moved somewhere else.”

“No!” Shisui yelps. “This shioyaki is too good to be changed.”

The owner preens. “One day they’ll give in,” he declares.

 _Or you’ll go bankrupt, first,_ Mori thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say that out loud.

Well, as long as his business pays enough for _Icha Icha_ it probably doesn't matter to this guy.

“... Okay, then.” Mori breathes out.

He glances over at Shisui. Shisui shrugs.

Izo takes charge and gets to his feet, taking another bite out of his fish before twirling the stick around in his fingers and nodding to the chef. “Thanks for the shioyaki.”

“Have a good day,” the owner calls out as Mori and Shisui get up to follow him down the street. Behind them, the owner is already pulling out his porn and flipping to his page.

Shisui snorts as he turns a corner and tosses the rest of his salted mackerel into a trash can. “ _Salty.”_

“Dude,” Izo comments, looking almost offended.

“What?”

“Here, Izo,” Mori rolls his eyes as he hands Izo the rest of his stick. “I don’t understand how you survive on sodium.”

Izo takes the shioyaki and sticks his tongue out at Mori.

“Around lunchtime, is what he said,” Shisui says, bringing them back to the mission. He looks at Mori in the eyes. “You should have a clear shot at the building, then.”

“Yes,” Mori agrees. “Good luck with your ‘pack of wolves’.”

“I guess it was too easy to be true,” Izo mumbles. “Can't I ever have a boring mission for once?”

Mori thinks of the past year of guard duty and D-ranks with his genin team. He shrugs. “I'll see you for the sabotage.”

“Don't get caught, Hayakawa,” Shisui says with a casual salute. “Let's go, Nara.”

“Good luck,” Mori says, staring at Izo. _Reign it in,_ he thinks.

“I'll be fine,” Izo assures him.

 _‘I’_ and not _‘we’,_ Mori notices.  

Shisui glances between the two of them, and a small frown crosses his lips.

It seems their Uchiha companion noticed, too.

* * *

 

Izo and Shisui go to meet the CEO of the Doro Mining Company, leaving Mori by himself. He stakes out the back entrance to the big building and hopes that the guards are lax because while this mission is ten thousand times more interesting than guard duty, he's not exactly in the mood for trying right now.

He has a genin team waiting back in Konoha for him, itching for a better C-Rank. The longer he’s away, the more restless they’ll get. Aya’s good at entertaining kids, and she’s especially good with ninjutsu, but they’re not _her_ team.

Mori keeps an eye on the back entrance of the building and waits for the guards to disappear to get food. It's easy to slip in during the small window of time while they're gone and start searching for a main office.

Most CEOs like having their offices on the top floor, and Mori’s willing to bet this one is no different. He follows signs and takes random turns until he comes across a staircase, and he starts making his way up.

It's a quiet trip up to the top floor. It's almost eerily silent; except for the humming of the electricity, there's almost no noise. The silence isn't necessarily uncomfortable, but after traveling with Shisui for a few days, it is a little bit strange.

Mori presses his mouth into a tight line, thinking of Izo and Shisui. Hopefully, Izo isn't being too hostile -- as smart and as laid back as he was, he was also never very good at hiding discomfort or frustration.

(Or was he? Mori didn't even know Izo was in ANBU until recently, who knew what he was feeling?)

Mori steps out into a hallway and peers down. Completely empty. Feeling a little apprehensive, he steps out and starts peeking through windows and into doors, looking for any maps or files or cabinets that might hold the information that he's looking for.

Most of the offices are empty: dark and bare with a few pieces of dusty furniture. It makes Mori wonder why the mining company uses such a large building when they apparently have so few employees. He continues walking.

Thankfully, it's rather obvious when he does come across a main office. When he peeks through the window in the door, he's greeted with the sight of a large, high-quality desk covered with scattered papers, a fancy pencil cup, and paper clips. The back wall of the room is lined with filing cabinets, and above those is a large window that lets in a flood of natural light. Mori tries to turn the knob, but the door doesn't open -- it's locked.

“It's always locked,” he grumbles to himself. Mori scans the room through the window before him. He narrows his eyes at the chair seated in front of the desk.

_That should do._

Mori looks to his left, and then to his right. It's an empty hallway. He turns back to the chair and focuses.

Quickly, he runs through the hand signs for a _kawarimi_ and in a puff of smoke, he's switched places with the chair. Once he's regained his bearings, he opens the office from the inside and drags the chair back into the office and out of the hallway, locking the door behind him.

“That always makes me a little dizzy,” he mumbles. He leans over the desk and frowns at the haphazard, random mess of files. Mori starts shuffling through the papers, searching for information on the location of the mines.

It's painfully unorganized, but luckily it's not encoded -- he tosses some irrelevant letters and records around until he comes across something much more practical: a map.

Quickly, Mori starts pouring over it. It's unlabeled, but he can recognize the town they're in, placed slightly off-center on the map. There are a couple of highlighted areas that Mori can recognize as mining sites from the file the Sandaime game him. He runs his finger across the highlighted spots and frowns, thoughtfully.

 _This section,_ he thinks. _That’s not supposed to be there._

He double checks the area and sighs. Of _course_ they're mining in Konoha territory. They all knew that they would have to sabotage something, but there was still some part of Mori that hoped to get this mission over and done with so he could get back to his genin.

Mori starts taking note of where the site is located, mentally overlaying the specified borders on top of the map.

_Forty-five miles out, west of the stream, about eighteen square miles --_

The sound of footsteps abruptly cuts off his train of thought.

Mori shoves everything back into the disorganized pile. He whirls around, eyes darting around the room for a hiding spot. He looks upward and presses his lips together.

When the door to the office opens, Mori is pressed up in the top corner of the office, casting a mild misdirection genjutsu and sticking himself to the ceiling with chakra. He prays that whoever’s coming in won't need the filing cabinet underneath him -- the genjutsu makes people’s eyes pass over him, but it doesn't make him invisible.  

Two people enter the office. Mori holds his breath and watches the pair.

“You think he'd do it?” One of them asks. A man, built like a tank and with at least three blades hidden on his person.

The other man shrugs. He tilts his head, looking up at his taller companion. “I dunno. Boss is getting kind of soft with _her_ around,” he drawls.

The tall man scoffs. “Tell me about it,” he grumbles. “Echigo gets laid and suddenly she's second-in-charge? Fucking disgusting.”

“Can’t deny she's a fucking snake, though,” the shorter one says, and the tall guy nods in agreement.

“If Echigo thinks _he's_ the one still in charge, he's got something coming,” the tall one says. “That girl’s got some _tongue_.”

The two men snort in amusement.

One of them picks up a piece of paper and frowns.

“...Still, she’s got no leverage without that rock of hers,” the shorter one says.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do,” the short one says. “Boss wants the money, the rest of her is a bonus. If we could get it off of her…”

The tall one rolls his eyes. “Big words from the guy who got his ass whipped by a teenager.”

The short one turns red. “She's a fucking _cheat,_ okay? A dirty little _bi--”_

“You talking about _me?”_

Mori stiffens.

A teenaged girl leans on the doorway, a single eyebrow lifted up. The two men scowl.

The shorter man finally chooses a sheet from the pile of papers on the desk and turns to stride out of the room.

“Watch your back, Sachi-chan,” the taller man intones as he brushes by her.

“More like your neck,” the shorter man threatens, and he leaves the office after the other one.

The girl smirks, wide and familiar. Her hand drifts up to a pendant hanging around her neck -- a pendant that Mori is sorry to recognize.

_A huge group of them with this one girl._

_She’s got a fancy necklace._

A simple conversation with a guy who runs a shioyaki stand, and of course _this_ is what comes out of it.

Over a year ago, Mori took his team on their first C-rank -- their _original_ C-rank, and they had managed to recover a black opal from a thief named Kochiyama Sachiko. And now that black opal is hanging around that thief’s neck, right in front of Mori.

The sight of the black opal pisses Mori off. It only reminds him of his stupid mistakes -- letting down his guard, drinking the drugged tea, and nearly getting his own student killed on her first C-rank. But even more than that, it gets him to think.

 _The Yugakure mission failed,_ he realizes, mind racing. If Sachiko has the opal _here,_ then that means whatever team got the Yugakure mission this time around failed to recover the stone.

Sachiko walks further into the office, heading for the desk.

Mori prays that she won't look in his direction as he starts making his plan.

 _This is for Konoha,_ he tells himself, watching Sachiko start to open drawers and dig into the desk. _Konoha failed to recover that rock -- It’s my job to get it back._

At least, that's how he's going to justify it when Izo tries to lecture him about what happened.

“Fucking idiot,” she mutters. She pulls out a piece of paper and prepares to leave the room. “Echigo has _no_ sense of organization --”

She cuts off as her eyes land on Mori hiding in the corner of the office.

For a split second, Mori thinks that his misdirection genjutsu is doing its work, that she doesn’t see him. And then Sachiko’s eyes widen, and she opens up her mouth to scream.

 _So much for genjutsu,_ Mori thinks, and he lunges forward, a kunai in his hand.

* * *

 

He leaves the girl gagged and unconscious in one of the abandoned offices. He slumps her body in the corner and slides the black opal off her neck, and he slips it into one of his pockets for safe keeping.

On the one hand, he’s recovered the black opal. On the other -- it's only a matter of time before someone finds Sachiko, and then their sabotage window will start closing.

Mori still isn't wearing his hitai-ate, but it wouldn't be hard to connect Sachiko’s attack with the arrival of the Konoha ninja. He needs to meet up with Shisui and Izo as soon as possible.

Mori makes his way through the building once more -- faster, now that he knows the way. Still, more and more people are trickling in as the lunchtime rush ends, and he has to take extra care to preserve what little time he and his team have.

Finally, he slips out of the building and out of sight of the guards at the door. Mori starts making his way to the rendezvous point, letting his fingers brush the black opal hidden in his pocket. His mind replays the Yugakure mission, and he hopes that his genin are doing okay back in Konoha.

As he walks, he pictures the map in his head. Forty-five miles -- about half a day’s journey, maybe less if they rush.

He says as much when he does meet up with Shisui and Izo. Izo lifts his eyes up to the sky and lets out a tired breath.

“And it's sabotage time!” Shisui declares. “I’m glad you got the information in one go, Hayakawa. Would’ve been a pain to wait around for another day.”

“Can we stop by for another stick of shioyaki?” Izo asks.

“No,” Mori says, making a face. “Plus, we should hurry.”

Shisui blinks. “Why? We're not in a rush.”

“Um,” Mori says, thinking of the unconscious Sachiko locked in an empty office. “I miss my genin.”

Shisui laughs.

Izo gives Mori a concerned look, but he shakes his head and gets back to the mission.

“Half a day, you said?” Izo muses. “It's about two-ish right now… it'll be sundown by the time we get there.

“Mines are dark, anyway, so it's not too big of a deal,” Mori comments.

“We can split up for this,” Izo says, thinking ahead. “Mori and I can scout -- Uchiha, you can go and wreck the equipment.”

“Huh,” Shisui says.

Izo looks at him and lifts an eyebrow. “You have a problem with that?” He drawls.

“Well, I just think it would be faster if two of us were on sabotage,” Shisui says carefully. “I’d rather not waste time, here.”

Izo’s neutral expression slips into a suspicious scowl.

“... Yes,” he concedes. “Fine. Mori --”

“Can come with me,” Shisui interrupts, his voice uncharacteristically hard. “Your skill set is more suited to scouting, Nara-san.”

It's true -- with his Nara Shadow Techniques, Izo’s far better suited to a scouting position than Shisui or Mori combined. Mori might be better at sensing, but it's Izo’s delaying tactics that make him most useful when watching someone’s back.

Unfortunately, this setup also has the side effect of separating Izo from Mori and Shisui. And Shisui _knows_ that, too -- well aware of what he's doing right now.

Mori clenches his jaw. Shisui hadn't made any attempt to get Mori on his own this entire mission. Taking the first watch, walking on his own… he'd been content to let Izo and Mori do their own thing, hold their own conversations. Shisui gave them space, let them nurse their suspicions. Until now, apparently.

Mori narrows his eyes. The Uchiha’s been surprisingly patient in getting to the _real_ mission they're here for.

Izo’s hands curl into tight fists. His voice stays even -- but Mori can already hear the beginnings of an argument breaking out. “Look --”

“I thought you Naras were good with strategy,” Shisui interjects, and a smug smirk crosses his lips.

“Oh,” Izo blinks, face blank. “Well, I just assumed that _Shunshin no Shisui_ would be fast enough for two people. I didn’t want to be too imposing.”

Shisui twists his mouth. “Don’t worry about it, Nara,” he replies, voice light. “Hayakawa won’t get in my way.”

Mori internally winces. _That came out really threatening._

Izo bristles. “Listen, Uchiha --”

“It's fine,” Mori cuts him off. “We can sabotage -- you're a better scout, anyway.”

“Mori --” Izo protests.

“It’s _fine,”_ Mori repeats, shoving his tension aside. “We need to _go.”_

“What, ‘missing your genin?’” Izo snaps.

 _“Yes,”_ Mori snaps back. “Just drop it, it’s not a big deal. Sorry, Uchiha-san.”

Shisui waves it off, but he also has a hint of a grin. Which isn’t foreboding at all.

Mori's not happy with this setup, not even close. But if the Uchiha are fishing for information, Mori is willing to throw them a bone -- and maybe get some answers of his own in the process.

Izo clearly isn’t satisfied with that as he shoots Shisui another suspicious glare. Uchiha Shisui stares back without any fear.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Mori says, attempting to lighten the mood. “B-ranks are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“You can say that again,” Izo mutters. “Forty-five miles out, you say?”

* * *

 

They leave Izo at the entrance to the mines. Shisui and Mori descend into the darkened tunnels by themselves, minds clear and focused on the tasks ahead of them.

Sabotaging mining equipment is mindless and easy -- all Mori and Shisui have to do is tear down the machines. It doesn’t matter if the sabotage can be traced back to Konoha because this destruction is meant to send a message. They don’t have to be careful -- they just need to cause some damage.

Shisui rips out a few important-looking wires. Mori steals the screws in some machines and rips out support beams in others. The two of them work in silence, getting the job done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Mori keeps his mouth shut and his senses on high alert. The tension that had been present on this mission from the start is almost suffocating -- but Mori knows how to be patient.

Shisui likes to talk. Shisui prefers conversation to silence. And while the Uchiha is quite skilled at weaving in and out conversation, this is Mori’s specialty. He can play the waiting game all day long until Shisui cracks.

Mori uses a kunai to saw through another rope, watching part of the mining machine fall to the ground. He moves onto the next machine, keeping Shisui in his vision -- and as he predicted, the other man cracks first.

“You know, don’t you.”

The Uchiha’s voice is low and serious -- there are no jokes here.

“Know what?” Mori asks, casually. He forces his breathing to remain even and continues loosening a few important screws of the mining equipment.

Shisui falls silent for a beat, then two. Mori shifts his position, defensively moving behind one of the mining carts, always keeping something in between him and the Uchiha.

And then, Shisui chuckles.

Mori fights to keep himself from jumping out of his skin, instead focusing on plastering a confused expression on his face.

“What's so funny?”

“You're good,” Shisui tells him, a light smile on his lips. “If I didn't already know, I wouldn't be able to tell if Itachi told you or not. I see why he trusts you.”

“Uh… thanks? What are we talking about --”

“Itachi,” Shisui says. “We're talking about Itachi.”

 _Protect Itachi,_ Mori thinks, and he can't quite keep the defensive tone out of his voice when he asks, “What about him?”

“I appreciate everything you've done for my cousin,” Shisui says, and though Mori tries, he can't pick out any lies in Shisui’s voice.

“Fugaku-sama and Itachi are both under pressure, and they take it out on each other,” Shisui continues, “so I'm thankful that you take him under your wing, when you can. He needs it.”

“...It's no trouble,” Mori says carefully.

But then Shisui looks up and meets Mori’s wary gaze.

“I’m grateful,” Shisui says. “But it has to stop.”

Mori stiffens.

“I'm not here to kill you,” Shisui says, and there's no amusement in his tone anymore. “Sandaime-sama wouldn't have granted my request otherwise.”

“Then what are you here for?” Mori asks. There's no point in pretending. Neither Shisui nor Mori are focused on sabotage anymore -- it was never the real mission in the first place.

“My clan suspects Itachi of being a spy,” Shisui declares. “And they suspect _you_ for being his contact outside of the clan.”

“... Oh,” Mori says.

“So the more Itachi seeks you out…”

Mori closes his eyes. “... The deeper he's digging his grave,” he finishes.

 _Why,_ he thinks. _Itachi's life is hard enough, why can't he just be a twelve-year-old boy, why?_

“Yes,” Shisui says, not without a note of regret. “It's not too late. They asked me to investigate Itachi, but they don't know that I'm loyal to the village, too. I can go back, tell them that you know nothing and that I scared you off of Itachi, but you can't talk to him anymore.”

Mori clenches and unclenches his fists. “He's -- he’s _twelve,”_ Mori says weakly.

Itachi, under pressure from his clan and peers from a very young age. Itachi, forced to choose between his family and his village. Itachi. Twelve years old, and only one more year before someone is forced to pull the plug on the Uchiha.

Shisui presses his lips together. “He's _alive.”_

_Protect Itachi._

“Itachi looks up to you, too, you know?” Mori says.

“Yes,” Shisui agrees. “I know.”

“Do you?” Mori asks, feeling a surge of protectiveness. He speaks, low and sharp. “He's playing spy and betraying his own _clan_ for the village. Did you even tell him whose side you're on? Does he know he's not alone?”

Shisui winces.

“I thought so,” Mori scowls.

“I _am_ going to tell him,” Shisui defends himself. “Hell, _I_ wasn't sure whose side he was on until the Elders approached me about him. It's not like we can go around advertising the fact that we're traitors to the Clan, you know?”

Mori can't argue with that logic, but he's not happy with it.

Shisui catches Mori’s uncertainty and something in his expression loosens.

“I know Itachi,” Shisui promises. “He _won't_ break. Not like this.”

“He needs someone to look out for him.”

“Of course,” Shisui answers, reassuring.

Mori looks at Shisui -- really _looks_ at him -- and holds his gaze for a few seconds, searching.

He'd spent this mission halfway between paranoia and panic, too busy thinking about keeping himself and Itachi alive, too busy trying to pass the mission and calm Izo down to really get to know Uchiha Shisui.

But even with these few days, he still can tell that Shisui is no ordinary Uchiha. Like Itachi, he chose the village over the clan.

He’ll take his skill and offer it to Konoha. He'll use that casual demeanor and lie to his family. He has the trust of his clan and the trust of Itachi, and he'll betray the former to save the latter.

It's not the shunshin that makes Shisui so fearsome, it's his loyalty, Mori realizes.

“Okay,” Mori breathes out. “Okay.”

* * *

 

When they return to the entrance to the mines, Izo nearly falls over in relief.

“Let’s go,” Mori says, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Sabotage’s done. We’re fine.”

“Fine?” Izo asks, looking between Mori and Shisui. Shisui shoots Izo a small smile.

“Yeah,” Mori assures Izo. “I think I’m ready to leave --”

_“Not quite.”_

The three Konoha ninja jerk their heads up -- only to find a group of people making their way closer.

Mori winces. Izo catches the wince and frowns.

“What did you _do?”_

“I fixed a mistake,” Mori shoots out, a twinge of guilt crossing his face. The black opal in his pocket feels five pounds too heavy.

 _I should have killed her,_ Mori thinks, sullen. Mori prefers to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, but he’d hoped Sachiko would stay down for an hour more.

He shakes off the feeling and turns back to Izo. “What were _you_ doing?”

A ninja of Izo’s caliber should have spotted this group from three miles out, and they all know it.

Izo has the grace to look guilty, but he's still glaring a little in Shisui’s direction. “Forgive me for worrying about my _best friend.”_

The group draws closer, a dozen armed people with a range of displeased expressions. They're fighters -- mercenaries, most likely, though Mori can spot a few shinobi within the group.

 _A pack of wolves,_ the shopkeeper’s voice says, and Mori grits his teeth as he reaches into his weapons pouch to grab a kunai.

“The equipment in there is pretty expensive,” a man calls out, stepping forward.

“Oh, hi, Echigo-san!” Shisui says, a mischievous smirk crossing his features. “Fancy meeting you here.”

 _The boss,_ Mori recalls from the conversations he'd overheard.

“We delivered the scroll to him,” Izo says, for Mori’s reference. “Bit of a jerk.”

 _We could probably make a run for it,_ Mori thinks to himself. They've sabotaged the mines, and though they've been caught, it doesn't mean much in the long run. The point has been made.

And Mori _really_ wants to get back to his genin team.

Izo's thinking the same thing. His eyes flick up to the trees, then back to Mori.

Shisui’s fast, Mori’s quick, and Izo's good at delaying. It wouldn't be hard to leave - a few well-placed hits, maybe a smoke bomb, and they could take to the trees and run.

The problem would be losing the two shinobi that are with the enemy. Mori sizes one up and twists his mouth in frustration -- they all seem like quick runners.

 _“You,”_ a feminine voice grits out.

Sachiko steps forward, eyes locked onto Mori. She’s got a bandage around her forearms where Mori sliced her, and her cheeks are an irritated red from the gag he put her in. “Give it _back.”_

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Mori answers, nonchalant.

Izo and Shisui shoot him incredulous looks, but Mori keeps his expression light and unconcerned.

Sachiko growls. Her right hand curls around the hilt of a dagger, and she takes another step forward.

Again, Mori flicks his eyes up to the trees.

 _If we separate the shinobi from the rest, it should be easy to take them out,_ Mori decides. He’s a Konoha shinobi -- he knows how to fight in a forest. He turns to Izo and catches the other man’s eyes; Izo nods in response.

Beside him, Shisui tenses.

Mori turns to Shisui and loosely gestures to the trees.

“No,” Shisui says, his dark eyes sharp and focused. A ghost of a smirk crosses his lips, predatory.

A shiver runs down Mori’s spine as Shisui tugs up the corner of his mouth, revealing his teeth in a feral grin.

“I got this.”

Before Mori can blink, Shisui _disappears._

“What --”

A sudden series of cries draw Mori’s attention. Sachiko is lying flat on the ground, choking.

Blood spurts up in the air as four of the men drop to the ground, legs sliced up. Echigo’s eyes widen in shock, but before he can do anything, he’s doubled over on the ground, bleeding from both of his shoulders.

Shisui pauses his attack, and for a brief moment, Mori sees him.

His eyes are ice cold, his expression as stony as Itachi’s. Mori watches with wide eyes as Shisui ducks a kick from a mercenary, twirls his kunai around, and severs the mercenary’s tendons at the knee. The man crumples like paper, and Shisui disappears from sight once more.

Within ten seconds, every single enemy is incapacitated. They lay uselessly on the ground in varying levels of pain. Shisui, untouched and not a hair out of place, calmly walks up to a choking Echigo and places his foot on the man’s chest.

“P-please,” the man stutters. His arms tremble wildly, and his breath comes out in choked gasps. “I - I don't want to die!”

“I won't kill you,” Shisui says evenly. “We wouldn't be having this conversation otherwise.”

Echigo whimpers.

“Konoha had an agreement with you,” Shisui says. He feigns a thoughtful expression. “Something about staying within a certain border?”

“I’m sorry, I didn't, I didn't _realize_ \--”

“Echigo-san,” Shisui interrupts, letting a hint of disappointment creep into his voice. He leans forward, putting more weight on the man’s chest. “You’re more than ten miles into Konoha territory. You really expect us to believe that that was an accident?”

Echigo is crying now.

“You'll lose more than mining equipment if you try to deceive Konoha again,” Shisui says. “You run such a successful company, it’d be a _shame --”_

“I'm _sorry!”_ Echigo shrieks. “It won't happen again, I _swear,_ we’ll move the mines, I _promise!”_

Shisui smiles again, sharp and precise without a hint of warmth. “Good choice, Echigo-san.”

He twirls his kunai around and slams the hilt into Echigo’s temple, knocking him out. Shisui turns around, leaving the mercenaries groaning on the ground as he walks back to Izo and Mori.

Izo has a disturbed expression on his face -- somewhere between shock and panic.

“Damn,” Mori gets out, still feeling his heart pound in his chest. “You’re _fast.”_

Shisui beams -- this time, a genuine smile. “Thanks!”

Izo frowns, unable to say anything.

“You ready to go?” Shisui asks. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of Konoha. “Still missing your genin team?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mori agrees, trying to steady his breathing. “... Let’s go.”

“Mori --” Izo protests.

“Izo, it's _fine,”_ Mori says. He glances from Shisui, to Izo, and back to Shisui. “He's on our side.”

 _Thank god,_ Mori thinks to himself. He doesn't know what he would do if he had to _fight_ Shisui. Die, probably.

“ _Really,”_ Izo intones, eyes on Shisui’s feet.

It’s then that Mori notices the lengthening shadows that Izo’s been aware of since the beginning. Shisui isn't standing in one, but Mori knows that Izo’s just waiting for the opportunity to get him under control.

“Yeah,” Shisui speaks up. “Itachi and I --” He cuts himself off and looks over at the groaning and unconscious mercenaries lying a few feet away. “... Actually, we should probably have this talk on the way back.”

* * *

 

Shisui slips the full story to Mori and Izo as they make their way back to Konoha. It comes out in bits and pieces -- little slices of information that start casting light on their situation.

Itachi’s been feeding the Uchiha information, but it's incomplete, inconclusive. By now, the Uchiha are starting to get restless. It's harder for Itachi to satisfy them without giving anything away, and with the way he latches onto Mori during his days off, the suspicion is only growing.

Shisui's been doing his own investigation on the side, trying to seek out other clan members who support Konoha. But it's slow going, especially with how paranoid everyone has become. When the Elders asked him to look into Itachi, he’d gone to the Hokage and requested a mission with Mori. Not to investigate for the Uchiha, but to warn him away from Itachi before the suspicions grow out of hand.

“Did you find anyone else who supports the village?” Mori wonders.

“There are a few that I've got my eye on,” Shisui says, “but I'm not sure enough to approach them yet.”

Izo scoffs quietly. Mori jabs his elbow into his side.

“... It sounds like you have a plan,” Mori comments. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

Shisui, at least, was doing something useful -- Mori hadn't done anything relevant to fixing the Massacre. It felt kind of pointless, at times.

“A plan,” Shisui murmurs. He rubs one of his eyes and bites his lip. “Well, an _idea_ of a plan, anyway.”

Mori and Izo glance at him, curious to see if he would elaborate. Shisui only shakes his head and smiles.

“I'm glad you were his sensei,” Shisui says, abruptly changing the subject.

“For two weeks,” Mori mutters.

“Some lessons only need two weeks,” Shisui replies. “I’ve known Itachi for a long time, but it was you who got him to actually _initiate_ a conversation with me. He asked me what my favorite color was.”

Mori barks out a laugh. “He did that?”

“Yeah,” Shisui says. “It’s blue, by the way. Itachi did say colors were kind of a thing with you.”

Mori shrugs, unsure of what to say.

Izo still looks wary, even with Shisui’s revelations. He narrows his eyes. “You'll really turn your back on your clan for this?”

Shisui’s eyes darken. “I've _seen_ war,” he says. “I know what it does. Maybe the elders have forgotten, but _I_ remember.” He breathes in and closes his eyes. “I'll do whatever it takes to prevent a war from breaking out.”

Mori and Izo take that in for a moment. _War._

The Third Shinobi World War, so long ago in Mori’s memory, and he can still recall how hellish and terrible it was -- can still see the scars left behind on his skin.

Mori can empathize with wanting to avoid another one.

“Whatever it takes?” Izo wonders aloud.

Shisui nods, face grim.

Izo’s next words are quiet. “... Would you kill your clan?”

Mori stumbles mid-step, catching himself before he can hit the ground. He shoots Izo a startled expression.

 _Seriously?_ He wants to ask.

Izo carefully doesn't meet his eyes, instead, keeping his gaze fixed upon Shisui.

Shisui bites his lip, obviously uncomfortable with the question. They continue forward, the only sound coming from the nature around them.

“... I’ll do what it takes,” Shisui repeats. Again, he rubs his eyes. “But it _won't_ come to that.”

Izo nods and falls silent. Mori bites the inside of his cheek. Shisui twists his mouth.

A few minutes of silence pass before the conversation starts up again.

“... Hayakawa,” he starts. “What exactly did you do to piss them off?”

Mori snorts, the sudden subject change releasing some of the tension. “Knocked that girl unconscious and stole her necklace.”

Shisui blinks. “Why would you do _that?”_

Mori grins to himself. “To get my team a C-rank.” He shoots Izo a significant glance. Izo stares back at him for a second. Then his eyes widen, and he lets out a soft _‘oh’_ in understanding.

Shisui still looks confused, but he shakes his head and lets it go. There’s a soft smile on his lips: warm, but with a hint of sadness. “You're weird. No wonder Itachi likes you.”

Mori feels a twinge of guilt at the mention of Itachi’s name. He presses his lips together.

_You can’t talk to him anymore._

He shouldn’t have encouraged Itachi’s little rebellions. Itachi’s under suspicion. And it’s _his_ fault. And now… now he won’t even be able to say ‘goodbye’ to the kid.

“Shisui,” he says. “Can you tell him that I’m sorry?”

“Of course,” Shisui replies, voice soft. “He’ll understand.”

 _I know he will,_ Mori thinks. Itachi’s always been too smart and too loyal for his own good.

* * *

 

It takes about six days to make it back to Konoha. It’s a huge relief to see the gates of his home, and it’s an even bigger relief to know that the mission was _successful._

He thinks of his genin team -- Issei and Chie and Riku, all anxiously awaiting his return. Waiting for a mission.

He slips his hand into his pocket, feeling the black opal in his hands. An impulsive decision, maybe, but it turned out well, so he isn’t too worried about it.

Izo, Shisui, and Mori head up to the Hokage’s office to make their report. It’s quick and to the point.

The Sandaime frowns when hearing that they ended up revealing themselves, but he seems satisfied when Mori recounts Shisui's single handed attack on their enemies.

And although the Sandaime lifts an eyebrow at hearing that Mori stole a girl’s necklace for no apparent reason, he doesn’t make any comment.

After Shisui and Izo finish up their parts of the report, the Sandaime dismisses them. Mori remains standing in front of the Sandaime’s desk, and when the doors close behind him, he takes a deep breath.

“Sit, Hayakawa-san,” the Sandaime says.

Mori slides into the chair.

The Sandaime mirrors Mori, taking a fortifying breath of his own. Mori waits patiently.

“Hayakawa,” the Sandaime starts. “Do you know why I let Shisui take you on this mission?”

“Yes,” Mori answers. “He told me. I understand.”

“Do you?” the Sandaime asks, his voice hard. “You care for Itachi -- I know that. Anyone can see that you care for the boy.”

Mori nods.

“Hayakawa, I am glad that you have been his mentor,” the Sandaime says softly. “I do not regret my decision to appoint you as his instructor, no matter how short that time was. And while we may not have trusted each other entirely these past years, I _do_ trust that you have only Konoha’s interests at heart.”

Mori lowers head, accepting the reprimand for what it is.

“You are loyal,” the Sandaime continues. “But you have a tendency to ignore orders and logic in favor for your friendships.”

 _I do not,_ Mori wants to snap out. He’s always been the cautious one. Mori isn't reckless. He can make objective decisions.

“If it were I who told you to avoid Itachi, you would have ignored me.”

“I --” Mori cuts himself off to take a deep breath. He pauses, running through the simulation in his head.

He remembers his feeble attempts to find loopholes in the regulations against the Uchiha. He remembers ignoring Fugaku to make sure that Itachi has some form of stress relief. He thinks of these past few months, of snapping and finally demanding a C-rank from his Hokage.

“Um. That’s fair.”

“You will stay away from Itachi,” the Sandaime orders. “In return, I will allow your team to leave the village.”

Mori nods, feeling a lump in his throat.

“I will give you no more than one out-of-village mission every six months,” the Sandaime continues. “If I feel that you are taking too many risks, I will revoke these privileges.”

“Of course, Hokage-sama.” Mori lowers his head in respect.

In all honesty, it’s more lenient than he was expecting.

“Now,” the Sandaime says, leaning back in his chair. “What exactly did you steal during the mission?”

Mori manages a tiny smile, equal parts relief and amusement.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Hokage-sama, but I believe that a year ago, there was a C-rank in Yugakure. Regarding the defense of a museum.”

The Hokage blinks.

“During this mission, a thief named Kochiyama Sachiko escaped,” Mori continues. “With the most expensive item in the exhibit.”

The Sandaime’s eyes widen.

Mori digs into his pocket and pulls out the black opal. With no small amount of satisfaction, he carefully deposits the pendant onto the Sandaime’s desk.

“My team had that C-rank, previously,” Mori explains. “I recognized the girl, and when I saw her necklace, it wasn't hard to connect the dots.”

_I’ll defend Konoha’s honor. I'll come back alive._

_Let me have this._

The Sandaime stares at the black opal. A slow smile spreads across his face, and he chuckles.

“Well, then,” the Sandaime says. “I suppose I can hardly refuse this request.”

Mori smiles.

“Come back in three days,” the Sandaime says, taking the black opal into his hands. “And I’ll have you deliver a package to Yugakure.”

Izo, waiting for Mori at the entrance to the Hokage’s tower, snorts as Mori pumps his fist in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MAN I COULD KISS IZO RIGHT NOW. He wrote himself this chapter, and HOLY CRAP does it get my mind turning.  
> *grins evilly*
> 
> Goodbye, Itachi! Mori doesn't even get to say 'farewell' to his tiny prodigy student, poor man. Hopefully, Shisui is up to the task of keeping Itachi relatively safe and sane...
> 
> Mori doesn't realize it, but the Sandaime is manipulative as fuck. Even with that last bit, the Sandaime is manipulative as fuck. Everything the Sandaime does have a reason.  
> God, I love writing their conversations. They're so fun. I saved that bit for last just because I knew it would be fun and easy to write.
> 
> Also, Mori's denial of his own recklessness is just so funny? He's normally pretty lowkey, but he's also incredibly protective and terrified of being alone. Like, one of the first major things he does is get stabbed so that he can have friends. Mori, _please_.
> 
> Again, school and tests are kicking my ass, so bear with me here. I swear, I'm going to finish this story.
> 
> I also finally remembered my fanfiction.net password, so I'm going to start posting this story there, too! Updates will come here first, but only by a few hours or a day at most. Here's a link: [Lazuli Quetzal](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3037867/Lazuli-Quetzal)
> 
> Until next time,  
> LazuliQuetzal


	18. The Massacre, Part 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Chie and Issei walk into a bar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Oh my god i think i know how to fix the plot for my Batfam medieval AU fic I was planning  
> Also me: does not fix the medieval AU or finish this chapter in a reasonable amount of time

There are two things that Mori is looking forward to. One is being able to sleep in his bed again. Even his squeaky mattress is a luxury after two weeks of cold ground and an uncomfortable sleeping bag.

The other thing he’s looking forward to is announcing the upcoming C-Rank to his genin.

“They'll be so excited,” he tells Izo, as they walk through Konoha.

Izo snorts. “You sound like a proud father.”

Mori rolls his eyes.

“It's not a bad thing,” Izo tells him, but he's still wearing that amused smirk that makes Mori feel like he's the butt of a joke he doesn't get.

“I think it's kind of funny, how much you care about your genin,” Izo tells him.

Mori grins. “They're a good group,” Mori replies. “I wouldn't be surprised if I'm nominating them for the Chuunin exams in a few years.”

“Uh huh,” Izo agrees. Then he pauses. “...Speaking of your genin,” he says, tone careful. “What was that whole thing with the rock?”

Mori laughs lightly. “... We had a different C-rank,” he says. “Before. That thief -- we stopped her from stealing that opal the first time around, but we didn't get that mission this time.”

“Is there something specific that caused that change?” Izo wonders aloud.

Mori thinks of the Kyuubi hanging over his head like a death sentence. Jiraiya and the Sandaime, telling him you can't die. He shrugs. “I don't know.”

Izo glances over. “You sure?”

Mori shrugs again.

“I guess there's a lot of things we can't predict,” Izo decides, and he lets out a tired breath.

“Yeah,” Mori agrees. His hand drifts up to his chest.

They walk together for a few more minutes. Mori glances at the sky. It's around five or six in the evening; Aya and his genin have probably already ended today’s training. He’ll just see them tomorrow, then.

Izo clears his throat, and Mori looks over. The other man glances down at the ground before he meets Mori’s eyes and opens his mouth.

“MORI!”

Mori reaches for a kunai. Izo’s hands arrange themselves into a hand seal.

They halt as a blurry figure sprints in out of nowhere and skids to a stop in front of them, breathing hard.

“Aya, holy shit,” Mori grumbles, forcefully relaxing. “I was about to stab you!”

“Mori!” Aya repeats, this time with less volume and more nervousness. She straightens up, dusts off her shorts, and smiles at him. “Good mission?”

“Yeah,” Mori says, and Izo snorts. “It went well --”

“Great!” Aya interrupts, a strained smile on her face. “I’m glad. I’m just here to warn you,” she informs him, her eyes wide.

“Warn me?” Mori wonders aloud. He frowns and narrows his eyes. “Wait, don’t tell me --”

“Your genin,” Aya says, “are a bunch of little  _ shits.” _

_ Just as I say that they’re a good team, _ Mori thinks, and he grumbles.

“What did they do?” He asks. “I can talk to them, get them to apologize --”

“Oh no, they were fine with  _ me,” _ Aya backtracks, waving her hands around. “Delightful, really. But right now. They're. Um.”

Mori lifts an eyebrow at her, and she caves.

“They’re fighting,” Aya admits with a grimace.

Mori’s head starts to throb. “Fighting?” He asks, not sure if he wants Aya to elaborate.

“Fighting,” Aya repeats. “They're trying  _ very  _ hard to hide it from me -- but they're definitely fighting. I thought it would blow over, but hell Issei and Chie are both stubborn little shits, and then Riku --”

“Aya,” Mori cuts her off before she locks herself into a rambling cycle. He reaches out and grabs her by the shoulders. “What happened?”

Aya bites her lip. “I’m not entirely sure,” she admits, and her distress escalates. “They went out for lunch last week, and when they came back, Chie and Issei weren’t speaking to each other. You know those two.”

Mori closes his eyes. Issei probably pissed Chie off with another tactless comment and happened to hit on one of her insecurities.

“I had them spar to get it out of their system,” Aya says. “I don’t know, they were fine for a day -- at least they appeared to be, but then they started bickering while I was teaching them a fire jutsu. Chie asked Riku to choose a side, and then he snapped and torched the targets in the training ground.”

Mori takes a deep breath.

_ Damn it, Chie, _ he thinks.  _ Damn it, Riku. Damn it, Issei. _

“I tried really hard, Mori, I really did,” Aya babbles. “I had them do a couple D-ranks and sat them all down to talk it out. But now they’re just keeping up a facade for training and being passive aggressive the rest of the time. They don't trust me enough to tell me what’s going on -- and they’re all distracted with their feud, and they keep trying to ignore and one-up each other all at once, and they aren't working together and they can't even focus on training and I’m  _ so sorry, _ Mori, I seriously tried to smooth it out --”

“I don’t blame you,” Mori reassures her. Aya isn’t Team Four’s sensei. He is, and that means that he’ll be the one to deal with their issues.

“Thanks,” Aya says, but she still looks like she’s feeling guilty.

Mori twists his mouth. “Any good news?”

Aya lets out an unamused huff. It takes her a concerning amount of time before she finds something to say. “...They’re making progress with ninjutsu. Or at least, they were.”

She probably didn’t mean to say that last part out loud.

Mori cracks a humorless grin at Aya’s offering. “Thanks for watching them, Aya,” he says. “And thanks for the warning.”

“Anytime,” Aya replies, and she hugs him. When she lets go, she looks to the space by his side and frowns. “Izo left.”

Mori looks over to the empty space beside him and sighs. “It was a stressful mission,” Mori says. “He’s probably tired.”

“He’s always tired,” Aya agrees, and she shakes her head in mild disappointment. “Walk you home?”

“Sure,” Mori agrees.

They head to Mori’s apartment, walking side by side. Mori recounts some of Shisui’s jokes and leaves out everything else about his mission. Aya relates some of the events he missed while being out of Konoha. They both avoid the subject of his genin team.

When they reach his door, Aya places a hand on his shoulder.

“Mori, I --”

“Please don’t apologize,” Mori cuts her off. He grimaces. “They've been frustrated for the past few months. This has been brewing for awhile now…”

If he had to blame anyone, it's his own fault for dying and getting put on village arrest. Mori bites his lip and tries to ignore the sting in his chest as the thought of his death pops into his head.

“You’re good with kids, Mori,” Aya tells him. “Those kids need you.”

“Thanks,” he replies, and he hugs her before she leaves. “Good night, Aya.”

He enters his apartment and takes a hot shower, replaying his mission in his head, replaying the Sandaime in his head, replaying Aya’s words in his head.

_ You can’t talk to him anymore. _

_ You will stay away from Itachi. _

_ They’re fighting. _

There is one thing Mori is looking forward to, and it’s being able to sleep in his bed again.

* * *

 

Mori shows up to Training Ground Twelve early and hides in the trees, waiting for his genin to appear. Riku shows up first, with bags under his eyes and a book in his hands. As soon as he reaches their spot, he sits down and buries his nose in his book.

Issei appears about two minutes later. He walks up and sits down a few feet away from Riku. He glances at Riku for a moment before turning his head away to pick at the grass.

“Hi,” Riku snaps out, without removing his eyes from his book.

Issei’s head flies up and whirls around to face Riku. “Hi,” he blurts, slightly out of breath.

_ Huh, _ Mori thinks. Maybe it's not as bad as Aya says it is?

Riku is silent again.

Issei opens his mouth, hesitates, and then tries for another interaction. “... Good morning?”

“Did you apologize to Chie yet?” Riku asks.

Issei blinks before he scowls. “Never mind, then,” he huffs and turns away.

“You're being stupid,” Riku spits out.

Issei’s eyes flash, and he clenches his jaw. “I’m just being fair.”

“You don't have to be a jerk,” Riku says.

Issei doesn't reply, and the conversation dies as both boys turn away and glare in opposite directions.

Mori laments the loss of the easy days of his genin team.

Chie shows up, then, her face blank and stone cold, without any of the usual enthusiasm. She crosses her arms and doesn't say anything. The atmosphere is too charged for any conversation, anyway -- Mori almost considers leaving, but it's too stupid of an idea.

Mori slips around the grounds and climbs down from the trees. Today doesn't seem like the best day to shunshin down and startle his genin.

He walks forward, and he can see his genin’s eyes widen as he draws closer. Chie gets to her feet and runs up.

“Sensei!” She exclaims as if she weren't just giving Riku and Issei the cold shoulder. “You're back!”

“Yep,” Mori says. He ruffles her hair around as he walks by and pulls up to where Issei and Riku are now standing. “Nice to see you three are still alive.”

“Hi, Mori-sensei,” Riku says.

Issei only nods in greeting.

Mori looks between the three of them. Suddenly, he feels very tired. How does he even go about this?

“How was your mission?” Chie asks.

“... Eventful,” Mori answers honestly. He thinks of the tense atmosphere he thought he’d be escaping. Well, so much for that. “I've heard you three had an eventful two weeks, too.”

Riku winces. Chie looks away. Issei scowls.

Mori originally planned to have them spar to see how their ninjutsu has progressed, but that seems like a bad idea right now.

Mori makes his way over to the tree line and sits down. He rests his head against the tree and stretches out his legs. Silently, his genin sit down on the ground, too.

He waits for about twenty seconds, just to see if any of them are willing to share. Riku looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Issei clearly believes that he's in the right. Chie has a disturbingly unreadable expression.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Mori asks.

Chie lowers her gaze. Issei scowls. Riku bites his lip.

_ I'll take that as a ‘no’, _ Mori thinks.

There’s another five-second pause.

What would Ryuu-sensei do?

“What do you three want to do today?” Mori asks his students, crossing his fingers and hoping for the best.

Chie blinks.

“...Pardon?” Riku asks, voice small.

“What do you want to do?” Mori asks. He sits up and leans forward. “I'll let you three choose, and we can do it. No missions, but anything else is fair game.”

“Like what?” Chie wonders.

Mori lists some activities off on his fingers, thinking of the types of things he would've enjoyed as a genin. “We could work on more ninjutsu,” he offers. “Or weapons, or taijutsu. Try and see if any other teams are up for a joint practice. Go out for food, get barbecue. Dango. Play a village-wide game of tag or something.”

As he talks, Chie only looks more and more distressed.

Issei narrows his eyes and curls his fingers. “What's the catch?”

“Catch?” Mori echoes. “Well, it should be a reasonable, doable request. Don't ask for a day off.” He pauses. “Oh, and you all have to agree on the same thing.”

Riku closes his eyes, and Chie’s lips curl in frustration.

“Really, sensei?” Issei grumbles. “Another one of your stupid ‘tests’?”

“It's not like I can choose one of your requests over the others,” Mori replies, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back against the tree. “That would be favoritism.”

The genin fall silent. Mori watches them. There are no silent conversations between the three, no bargaining or communication or any attempt to come to an agreement. One year of bonding, broken apart over whatever happened while Mori was on his mission. He holds back a frustrated groan and continues to wait.

“... Ninjutsu?”

To Mori’s surprise, it's Issei offering the olive branch. He glances over at Riku for approval, who shifts his gaze away.

“No thanks,” Chie replies, frostily. “That's all we've done for the past two weeks.”

Issei huffs and drops his chin into his hand. “You certainly need more practice,” he mumbles.

Chie winces, and Riku’s eyes flash.

“We could always do taijutsu,” Riku suggests, but his voice is ice cold and his glare is directed at Issei.

“Yeah, Riku can kick your butt around,” Chie drawls.

Riku turns his glare at her, and she winces again.

Riku’s mad at both of them, it seems.

Issei sneers at the ground. The genin fall silent once more.

“No ideas?” Mori asks.

Issei keeps his mouth shut. Chie avoids Mori’s gaze and glances off to the side.

“I'll come back to you later, then,” Mori says, making sure they know he's expecting some sort of agreement. “So. Who wants to go to the street market?”

* * *

 

Mori’s fridge is empty right now -- he'd used up everything perishable once he was assigned his mission. So he hands his genin a shopping list and a pouch of money that would hardly cover the cost of half of his groceries and steers them toward the street market.

When they get there, Issei counts the coins and scowls. His eyes shoot daggers up at Mori.

“Mori-sensei,” he begins, but Mori shakes his head.

“Today we're learning about negotiations,” he says, feeling nostalgic. “Sometimes you're forced into a position where you have to bargain with the enemy.”

“Which equates to you having us  _ buy your groceries,” _ Issei snaps.

Chie grits her teeth and glares at Issei, holding back her words.

“Yeah,” Mori replies, without shame. “Best way to learn how to bargain is by dealing with salespeople.”

Riku would be good at negotiations once he can read people. He’s clearheaded enough to calculate pros and cons and find a good deal, but he tends to take things at face value. Chie doesn't worry him at all -- she's the one bargaining with him for days off or for more missions or training with chakra. Issei’s also a natural at manipulating situations to his advantage, except that he has the unfortunate habit of insulting everything that annoys him.

By the look on Issei’s face, the boy knows exactly where this is going.

“What else would we ‘learn’ from this?” Issei snarls.

“You can't win every battle,” Mori says. “Sometimes you have to give something up. Find common ground.”

Riku looks down at the ground and pokes his toe at a brick in the pavement.

“Don't think I can't see through your bull, sensei,” Issei hisses, and he tightens his grip on the bag of money.

Chie scowls. “Unnecessary, much?” She mutters.

“You're one to talk,” Issei snipes back.

Riku grits his teeth. “Pot, kettle,” he says, and Issei whips his head around to glare at him, too.

“Now, now, play nice,” Mori warns. “Finding common ground applies to more than just negotiation.”

Issei turns on him next. “Don't preach to me,” he says. “You don't even know what  _ happened.” _

“Are you going to tell me?” Mori repeats his earlier question, voice firm.

Chie scowls at the ground, and Issei presses his lips together. Another ‘no’.

“I'll give you two and a half hours,” Mori says. “After that… know what you want to do.”

Riku gulps.

Mori makes a show of pulling out his own grocery list and some money, and waves as he turns around. He slips into the morning crowd, leaving the kids behind. Once he's out of sight of his genin, he slips into a shadowed alley and starts counting. As soon as he hits thirty seconds, Mori applies a light henge and sneaks back into the crowd to start tailing his genin.

“We should split up,” Chie is saying. She’s clutching the grocery list in her hands and looking at Riku as she speaks.

“Oh,” Issei mumbles. “Don't want to work with me?”

“Not like that, you idiot,” Chie snaps. “I just wanted to cover more ground --”

“Away from the resident trash can, yes --”

“Away from the arrogant  _ jerkface _ , more like it --”

“Guys?”

“You know, not everyone gets to be a spoiled fangirl.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Isn't that what you are?”

“Guys.”

“Even if I were a fangirl, what's so wrong with that? I can pull my weight.”

“With what? A bag of money, mediocre taijutsu, and a half-assed attempt at a fireball?”

_ “Holy crap.” _ Riku steps between Chie and Issei.  _ “Give me that.” _

He takes the grocery list from Chie and tears it into two pieces, keeping one for himself. Then he snatches the bag of coins from Issei and takes out a portion, and he shoves a fistful of coins into Issei’s arms.

“I'm going to do my part, _ alone,” _ Riku hisses. “And you idiots are going to do your part,  _ together. _ And  _ both  _ of you are going to  _ apologize _ , and finish this, and when Mori-sensei comes back, we're going to have something to show him.  _ Got it?” _

Chie’s eyes flash with panic. “Riku --”

“Nope!” He says, turning his back on the pair. “I'm leaving! Don't talk to me!”

Riku sprints away and ducks into a crowd of passerby. Chie and Issei take a few steps to follow him but it's too late -- he's already gone.

Mori, watching the interaction from several feet away, bites his lip.

Riku should be fine, he decides. Once the boy has a chance to cool off away from his teammates, he'll get down to work. Even if he doesn't end up getting good deals, he'll still benefit from the experience.

Mori stays to watch Chie and Issei.

Issei thumbs through the few coins left in his hands. His head snaps up, and he whirls around.

“Riku, you  _ horse’s ass,” _ he curses.

“What the hell, don't call our teammate that --”

“He left us so little money, we can't even split up!”

_ “What?!” _

Chie grabs the money and counts it. She holds out the sixteen remaining ryo, and she scowls and looks at the list of items left behind in her hands.

“Rice vinegar, a pound of beef, a bag of ginger, some onions, and green bell peppers…” she trails off and looks at the money. “There’s not nearly enough.”

Issei screws his eyes shut.

“We’ll just have to buy what we can,” Chie decides.

Issei’s eyes fly open. “We?”

Chie stares at Issei incredulously. “You  _ just  _ said there’s too little to split up!”

“You can just freeload,” Issei decides, like it's a matter of fact and there's nothing he can do about it. “Like you  _ normally  _ do.”

“I do not freeload, you jerk,” Chie hisses. “You might not think it, but I work hard too!”

“Ha.”

Chie looks ready to explode.

“I highly doubt you’d be able to get anything,” Issei snarks.

Chie crosses her arms. “Really.”

“What would you do with the money? Buy new clothes?”

She glares at him. “Sixteen ryo is enough for the onions --”

“No,” Issei cuts her off.

Chie scowls. “I know how to bargain, I’ll  _ make  _ it be enough--”

“No,” Issei repeats. He glares at Chie. “I'm getting everything on that list.”

“Do you even know how much this stuff costs?” Chie snaps. “There's no way sixteen ryo can cover--”

“I don't care,” Issei says, and he takes the money from Chie, ignoring her indignant spluttering. “I counted the money earlier. Sensei didn't even put enough for half the list. He doesn't think we can do it.”

_ “Intentionally,” _ Chie says. “It's a lesson in  _ bargaining.” _

“I don't care what  _ he  _ thinks, or what  _ you  _ think,” Issei snaps back. “I'll prove both of you wrong.”

“And where are you gonna buy it, huh?” Chie demands. “Have you  _ been  _ here before? None of the market vendors will ever drop below ten ryo for anything, let alone for  _ five items.” _

Issei ignores her and starts walking at a brisk pace.

“Hey!” Chie yells.

Issei doesn't turn around.

Chie lets out a frustrated growl and runs after him. “Seriously?” She snaps. “Silent treatment? That’s low.”

“Really?” Issei drawls. “Makes sense, considering I’m --”

“Shut  _ up.” _

Mori frowns in thought. Somehow, this argument doesn't seem as clear cut as he and Aya assumed.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” Chie asks.

Issei remains silent for a few more steps. Chie crosses her arms and insistently keeps up with his pace. Mori trails along about ten feet behind, pretending to be a random shopper and occasionally pausing at a few of the stands.

Finally, Issei opens his mouth, and Mori just knows his headache is going to get worse and worse.

“Sensei never told us we had to  _ stay  _ in the market.”

* * *

 

“Issei,” Chie says, her voice wavering. “I think you're missing the point of the exercise.” She glances at the sign on the building in front of them and bites her lip.

Issei waves off Chie’s concerns. “You're just scared,” he sneers. “Someone like  _ you  _ can't handle this?”

Chie bristles. “That doesn't have anything to do with you  _ missing the point.” _

“I'm a ninja,” Issei says. “I don't need to get the point. I'll make my own.”

Mori has to hold back a dark chuckle at that. He almost wishes Izo were here -- Issei’s words sound like they were taken straight out of the Nara’s mouth.

Chie’s hands curl into fists. “Issei --”

“Just stay out here,” Issei sneers. “Wouldn't wanna get your neat little  _ princess  _ hands dirty.”

With that, he walks forward.

“Oh no, you don't!” Chie rushes up next to him. “No  _ way  _ you're going in there alone.”

“One, it’s not dangerous,” Issei says. “It's just a bunch of gullible, lonely drunks sitting at a table with nothing better to do with their time, not that I'd expect  _ you  _ to know that. And two -- what the heck would  _ you  _ be able to do?”

Chie’s eyes flash, and she bumps Issei out of the way with her shoulder as she storms past him. “I'm  _ not  _ useless,” she snaps. She grabs the door handle, pulls it open with unnecessary fervor, and stomps in, fuming.

“Debatable,” Issei mutters to himself, and he follows Chie into the building.

Mori closes his eyes and sighs.

Issei’s ability to find the third option where there shouldn't be one is both mildly impressive and incredibly infuriating. For a moment, he contemplates grabbing the two genin and leaving. On the other hand, his goal was to get his genin to work together. And though Riku may be off on his own right now, it seems like it’s Chie and Issei that need this the most.

_ I've already made up my mind, haven't I?  _ Mori thinks to himself.

Even if he told the two genin to leave now, it wouldn't fix anything. Both Issei and Chie are too bullheaded to resolve their argument without pulling a stunt like this. His intervention might get Chie to calm down, but Issei is an entirely different story.

Besides… Mori will admit that he is curious to see how Chie and Issei will handle this.

With another resigned sigh, Mori switches to a stronger henge and follows his students into the gambling den.

* * *

 

It's seedy. The building is rundown and on the verge of falling apart. When Mori sits down at the bar, the stuffing on the stool is half-gone and moldy, and the counter is littered with knife marks stabbed into the old wood. Mori orders some sake for himself and turns his eye toward his two students.

Issei confidently sidles up to a card table, Chie at his heels. The four other people turn their heads and look at the kids.

“Aren't you a little young to be here?” A man drawls, a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Chie is stiff, but Issei only scowls.

“I’m here to play,” Issei declares. He places the sixteen ryo down on the table and stares up at the dealer.

One of the women at the table laughs. “That's so cute,” she giggles, blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “That your allowance, sweetheart?”

Issei snarls. Chie grabs his shoulder.

“Dude, can't you  _ try  _ to tone it down?” Chie asks. “We could get shanked in here!”

Issei shoves her hand off of his shoulder and turns away from her.  _ “You _ can get shanked in here.”

Chie lets out a strangled noise and agitatedly runs her hands through her hair.

Issei rolls his eyes and faces the rest of the table. “Are we starting or not?”

“Trying to win money to take your girlfriend on a date?” An older man with a bad mustache asks him.

Issei snorts, like the idea was too ludicrous for him to think up on his own. Chie scowls.

The dealer rolls her eyes and looks at Issei. “Go home, kid,” she says. “You might as well leave before you lose it all. Sixteen ryo ain't nothin’.”

Issei lifts up an eyebrow. “It’ll be somethin’ in a few rounds,” he challenges.

Blue-Eyes laughs. “Let the kid play,” she says. “He's gutsy.”

“More like stupid,” Cigarette replies.

The dealer narrows her eyes and leans forward, scrutinizing Issei.

The boy stares back.

“Eh, what the hell,” she decides. She leans back into her chair and tosses the cards between her hands. “Don't throw a tantrum if you lose.”

“Only if you all promise the same thing,” Issei drawls.

Chie screws her eyes shut and clenches her fists.

The other players at the table laugh.

The bartender slides a bottle and a glass toward Mori. He pours himself a shot and downs it in one go.

_ It's eight in the morning,  _ Mori thinks, feeling the alcohol burn as it slides down his throat.  _ These brats are going to be the death of me. _

The dealer shuffles the deck of cards, eyeing the players around her.

Blue-Eyes slides a heavy stack of coins into the betting circle. “Eight-hundred,”

Mustache pushes forward his bet. “A thousand.”

“Sixteen.” Issei puts their money in the circle, and the dealer chuckles. Chie bites her lip and tries to steady her breathing.

Cigarette shakes his head and pushes five-hundred ryo forward.

“You know how to play blackjack?” The dealer asks Issei.

Issei nods.

Chie presses her lips together in concern.

“Let’s start, then,” the dealer says. She tosses the cards out face up, starting with Blue-Eyes, then Mustache, then Issei, and finally Cigarette. She gives herself two cards and flips one of them over. Her face up card is a seven.

“Stay,” Blue-Eyes calls out. Her jack and the eight add up to eighteen -- fairly strong.

“Hit me,” Mustache calls out, eyeing his two and his four. The dealer hands him a seven, which makes his total thirteen. Mustache makes a beckoning motion with his hand, and the dealer tosses out a nine, causing him to curse in disgust.

Issei’s got an ace and a seven. He thinks for only a moment before tapping the table. “Hit me.”

Chie bites her lip again.

“Okay.” the dealer laughs a little as she throws out a card.

“Stay.”

It's a three. Mori breathes out a sigh of relief.

Cigarette gets his total up to twenty, and finally, the dealer flips over her face down card, revealing a queen.

“Seventeen flat,” she sighs. “Good call, kid.”

She hands Issei another sixteen ryo, bringing their total up to thirty-two.

Mori wonders how Issei would fare with poker. Then he wonders how  _ Itachi  _ would fare with poker. He looks down at his shot glass and twists his mouth, thinking of his wayward student.

Well, Itachi playing poker would have been interesting if nothing else.

Issei frowns in thought. “It's vinegar, beef, onions, ginger…”

“And bell peppers,” Chie reminds him. “If we bargain well enough, we can probably get everything with two hundred. Maybe.”

“I wasn't asking you.”

“You  _ were, _ you jerk.”

Issei holds back ten ryo and shoves the other twenty-two into the betting circle.

Chie looks around and mutters under her breath. “If sensei finds out, I wasn't involved.”

“Just like you to save yourself and blame everyone else,” Issei mutters, eyes dark. 

The dealer tosses out more cards.

Chie glares at Issei and hisses at him in a low voice. “Just like you to  _ gamble someone else’s money away.” _

“It's not ‘gambling away’ if I win,” Issei says. He squints at the dealer’s face-up three and looks down at his own fourteen total. “Stay,” he decides.

“Fourteen is low,” Chie comments.

“You’re not the one playing, dumbass,” Issei reminds her.

The dealer reveals her hand: a four and a queen. She starts her turn, scowling when she receives an ace, and then cursing when she gets an eight.

The kids’ total comes up to fifty-four ryo. Issei holds back twenty ryo and throws the other thirty-four into the pot.

He loses that round -- the dealer gets her hand to a solid twenty, beating Issei’s seventeen. Mori watches his money get handed off to the dealer. He downs another shot and hopes that Riku is making good deals.

Issei halves the remaining twenty ryo and bets ten.

“Hey --” Chie tries.

“Shut  _ up, _ loudmouth,” Issei says. “If you don’t want to be here, you can just leave.”

“Oh my  _ god, _ you jerk, I was just gonna say, we have like an hour and a half left.”

“That’s more than enough time.”

As he says that, the dealer reveals a nineteen, tying with Issei’s hand. Issei frowns and keeps his money in the betting circle. Chie groans in frustration.

And in spite of Chie’s numerous protests, Issei stays at the table, gambling with Mori’s money and steadily working his way up to two hundred ryo. Every time he loses, Chie hisses in his ear, but Issei only waves her off. And surprisingly, after a worryingly rocky start, Issei starts winning.

The kid gets two blackjacks in a row, and he collects his growing pile of money with seasoned ease and a casual smirk. Mori thinks he should be more alarmed that one of his genin is scarily comfortable in a seedy gambling den, but right now, all he can see is his students’ insults slowly shifting into aggressive banter. Chie and Issei are gradually moving from antagonistic enemies to reluctant allies.

Chie keeps track of the time. Issei gambles. Once she realizes that they aren't going to get shanked, Chie starts to relax and even strikes up a cautious conversation with Mustache to her right. Issei stops insulting Chie every time she opens her mouth, and instead listens to her when she reminds him about their time limit.

Nothing like a strange and foreign situation to make you put aside your differences.

Mori still can tell Issei only listens out of necessity, and that Chie only tones it down because she's in unfamiliar territory. Even so, they're working together.

As soon as Issei breaks two-hundred and twenty ryo, he scoops up the money and nods respectfully to the dealer, tipping her the original sixteen-ryo amount.

“You got guts, Mr. ‘Sixteen Ryo’,” she calls out as he and Chie turn to leave.

Issei grimaces at the nickname.

Blue-Eyes coos and waves as the genin exit the building. Cigarette nods. Mustache is too absorbed in his diminishing pile of money to care.

Mori takes one last sip of sake, slaps some money down on the counter and follows his genin outside.

He takes to the rooftops, silently trailing his students until he's sure they're out of the shadier side of Konoha. They make their way through the twisting alleyways back to the market, Issei in the lead.

Mori absently files that away in his head.

“Issei.” Chie breaks the silence, her voice quiet but clear.

Issei doesn't turn to look at her. “Yeah?”

Chie chews on the inside of her cheek, thinking. A pause. “...I guess that wasn't so bad,” she says, and there's a hint of something in her tone. Slowly, that muddled picture of what exactly happened while Mori was gone starts to clear.

Issei doesn't reply for a moment, and Chie draws back.

But then he shoves the winnings into her arms, and she looks down at the money in surprise.

“It’s your turn, loudmouth,” Issei tells her, in his normal, semi-annoyed tone. “I got us money, you use it.”

He walks off ahead of her, leaving Chie staring at the money. She shakes her head before speeding up to catch up with Issei.

They haven't addressed the real issue. Not yet. But hopefully, they'll reach that point where they can talk about it, soon.

Mori thinks for a moment. They've got about an hour left. With any luck, Chie and Issei’s truce will maintain itself for the next sixty minutes.

Mori crosses his fingers before he takes off to go check on Riku.

* * *

 

He keeps a slow and leisurely pace as he crosses the rooftops and tracks down his third student, mind wandering and jumping around.

Chie and Issei will be on the mend, if they aren't already. If Mori’s interpreted the situation accurately, Riku will forgive his teammates once they're done with their argument. Team Four’s issues should be patched up enough to go on an out-of-village C-Rank in three days, and any remaining troubles can be worked out during the trip to Yugakure. Probably.

If not, then the Sandaime might… well, he doesn't want to think about that.

It doesn't take Mori long to find Riku.

Riku is holding a singular item from Mori’s grocery list -- some garlic -- and he looks pathetically lost wandering the street market by himself. Riku pauses to look at a stand. The owner says hi, and Riku squeaks out a panicked greeting before briskly walking away.

_ Oh, _ Mori remembers. The color test. He’d watched Riku freeze up while talking to the Hyuuga guard, forgetting what he was doing in his fear. Mori had forgotten how hopeless Riku was at interaction with people outside of his comfort zone. Regretfully, Mori amends his earlier conclusions: Riku could be good at negotiations if he could read people better and talk to people who are not friends or authority.

Mori gets down from the rooftops and slips up behind Riku. He walks behind the boy for about a ten feet before coughing and causing Riku to whirl around with the garlic in his hands as a defense.

The boy doesn't relax once he recognizes Mori.

“Sensei!” He yelps, and he hides the garlic behind his back. “I -- uh -- is time up already?”

“No,” Mori assures him. “I was just going to check up on you.”

Riku presses his lips together, and his ears start turning red. He glances from side to side.

“Um. Chie and Issei are off. On their own.”

Mori waits.

“We split up. To cover more ground,” Riku explains.

“I saw them,” Mori says.

Riku taps his foot on the ground, wild and nervous. “... Are they getting along?” He asks.

“...Yes.” Mori decides to hold back information on the gambling. “They’re doing well.”

Riku lets out a sigh of relief.

“You look like you need help,” Mori speaks up, changing the subject.

Riku winces.

“Nothing’s wrong with that,” Mori reassures him, and he pulls up next to Riku in an attempt to set him at ease. “Everything I know about bargaining, I had to learn from Aya.”

“Aya-san?”

“Yeah,” Mori says. “I should've told her to do this with you guys. Oh well, some other time.”

Mori holds out his hand and looks over at Riku, expectant. Riku dutifully holds out the money, and Mori takes it.

“Bargaining is kind of like playing a board game,” Mori says. “Everyone cheats.”

“Cheats?”

“They’re salespeople, Riku.”

Riku nods.

The silent, dutiful action reminds Mori a bit of Itachi. He remembers watching Itachi buy his groceries, so long ago, and Mori shakes his head to get rid of the memory.

“Step one to getting a good deal,” Mori begins. His eyes land on a skinny teen sitting alone at a stall, glancing from person to person and jumping whenever someone walks up to inspect his wares.

_ Probably manning the stall for his parents, _ Mori deduces from the boy’s uncomfortable demeanor and the desperation in his eyes when trying to talk someone into buying.

Mori places a hand on Riku's shoulder and starts steering him through the crowd. “Find the most desperate salesperson…”

* * *

 

At some point, Riku takes over the bargaining. As long as Mori is somewhere nearby, Riku feels safe enough to strike deals with the salespeople. But Riku’s a new hand at this, so Mori winces as Riku gets swindled out of an extra twenty ryo and sighs when he drops forty on two apples.

Riku will probably want to stick with convenience stores for his grocery needs, rather than open markets that require bargaining.

“It's almost time,” Mori comments. “Let’s go meet your teammates.”

Riku looks down at the ground, subdued. “Okay.”

Riku follows him through the market. They weave through the vendors and dodge enthusiastic salespeople, drawing closer to the rendezvous point.

Mori glances at Riku. The boy’s gaze is lowered, and his fingers are curled tightly around the bags of food.

“How'd you feel about bargaining?” Mori asks.

“Urgh,” is Riku's response, and Mori snorts in amusement.

“It's hard,” Riku elaborates. “Trying to push people to give you what you want.”

“Yeah,” Mori agrees. “You're not a verbal confrontation person, huh?”

“That obvious?” Riku jokes, with a mildly self-deprecating tone in his voice. He shifts the weight of the bags in his hands and breathes out, mouth settling into a glum frown.

Mori looks at Riku out of the corner of his eye. “Well, it's not  _ entirely  _ true,” he comments. “You were pushing Chie and Issei around earlier, weren’t you?”

Riku freezes, stopping in the middle of the street. Mori turns around to look at his student’s pale face.

“You -- You saw that?”

Mori grins.

“Oh no,” Riku groans. “Sensei, I wasn't trying to be a jerk, I swear -- I -- it was for their own good --”

“Riku, don't worry about it,” Mori assures him. “They needed that.”

“I hope they don’t hate me,” Riku worries out loud. “I just abandoned them there -- I yelled at them!” He bites his lip and scrunches his eyebrows together, a far cry from the irritated volcano he was earlier that morning.

Mori pats Riku’s head. “They won't hate you.”

“They're too busy hating each other,” Riku mumbles.

Mori hums. “I don't know. You three can be a handful sometimes. But you are a team.”

“A team,” Riku echoes. They step onto the intersection where they started and make their way through the hustling crowds around them. There’s a small pocket free of traffic in the middle of the intersection, and Mori and Riku start moving towards it.

Chie and Issei are waiting for them there, standing stiff and straight, but with bags of groceries. As Mori predicted, their truce lasted for the remaining time, though they look a little more uncomfortable than he had hoped.

As they draw closer to the pair, Riku turns to look at Chie. He frowns, staring at their bags of groceries.

“How'd you get so much?” He asks. “I left you with sixteen ryo.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, you  _ nerd,” _ Chie snaps at him. “The  _ things  _ we had to do --”

“We?” Issei mumbles.

_ “You _ weren't the one haggling with the stingy vendor who smelled like  _ rotting peppers --” _

“You should tell us,” Mori interrupts. He levels his gaze at the two genin, and both Chie and Issei stiffen under his stare.

Mori smiles innocently. “I’m sure it's an interesting story.”

“I fundraised,” Issei states. Technically not a lie, but his voice is a little too monotone, and there’s a little too much of a smirk on his lips.

“Liar,” Riku calls him out.

Chie looks at Issei incredulously.

“Geez,” she snaps. “Just say it as it is!”

Issei lifts an eyebrow at her. “So you're gonna tell them?”

She sticks her tongue out at him and turns to Riku and Mori.

Issei crosses his arms and scowls at the ground.

“We played the ‘children’ card,” Chie starts off, and at that Issei blinks and lifts his head up. “Some adults took pity on us and gave us a chance. You'd be surprised what people will do for an innocent, helpless child.”

Riku glances from Chie to Issei and back. He shrugs, accepting her explanation.

Chie and Issei let out a quiet breath of relief.

Mori clears his throat. “Like let two kids gamble with sixteen ryo?”

The three genin stiffen in sync.

“You gambled?” Riku yelps.

“You know?” Chie shrieks.

“You were  _ there!”  _ Issei roars.

He has to applaud his two students on their ability to dodge the truth. None of them had  _ lied, _ exactly.

Issei crosses his arms and glares at Mori, a challenge in his dark eyes. “I didn't do anything wrong.”

“No,” Mori agrees. “Just ignored your sensei entirely.”

Chie snickers to herself. Mori turns his gaze onto her and lifts an eyebrow.

She flinches.

“You didn't stop him,” he comments.

“I, uh. He was winning?” Chie says, hesitant.

“You still knew it was against my instructions,” Mori presses. He watches Chie squirm under his gaze.

“I -- I thought... I mean, I wanted to get everything on the list, too,” Chie mumbles, looking at the ground. “Issei was getting the money, so…” she trails off.

“And that makes it okay?” Mori presses. He doesn't care about the gambling -- not really. If it had happened on any other day Mori probably would have rewarded the two somehow.

But today, there’s a certain reaction that he's aiming for.

He turns to Issei. “You didn't listen to my instructions, either.”

“We got your groceries.”

_ “Chie _ got my groceries,” Mori corrects. “She did the bargaining, didn't she?”

Issei’s lips curl and he looks away.

Chie takes a half step forward, almost opens her mouth… but in the end, she doesn't say anything as she slumps into a defeated posture.

_ Come on, Chie, _ Mori thinks, pleading in his head.  _ Defend him. _

“She wouldn't have had anything to bargain with if I weren't there,” Issei manages to get out.

Chie winces.

_ Say something. _

“And what does it matter, anyway?” Issei says. “I did your dumb assignment. Your dumb ‘training’. That should be the end of that, right?”

Mori’s eyes flicker to Chie’s torn expression. “It wasn't  _ quite  _ what I was looking for.”

“So?” Issei snaps. “You have your groceries. Hell, I even put up with Chie’s whining for the past two hours!” He makes a wild gesture in Chie’s direction. “That was more of a hassle than gambling!”

_ Shit, _ Mori thinks, mild panic rushing through his head.

The girl bristles in anger. “Well,  _ I _ had to put up with  _ you!” _ Chie growls. Her hands curl into tight fists and she leans over Issei, fuming.

Issei glares at her. “We all know you only  _ tolerate  _ my presence anyway.” His voice is like ice -- wickedly cold and sharp.

“As if you actually care,” Chie hisses. “You’re always going on about how  _ useless  _ and  _ stupid  _ I am compared to you. You’d sooner ditch this team than actually be a decent person for once!”

“Maybe we’d be a better team if you weren't such a spoiled, entitled mess!’

“Maybe we'd be a better team if you weren't such a rude jerk!”

Riku grits his teeth. “Guys,” he interjects. “Can't you just --”

“Oh,  _ go home,” _ Issei yells at Chie, ignoring Riku. “Life as a ninja is filled with assholes. And you know, a lot of those assholes are a bunch of dirty bastard street rats, just like me. So  _ get used to it!” _

“Kids.”

Chie and Issei freeze, suddenly remembering Mori’s presence. Riku quietly takes a step back.

Mori glances at the marketplace around them. This isn't the place for this conversation. “Let’s drop off the groceries at my apartment,” he suggests. Riku shakily nods, and Chie bites her lower lip. Issei scowls and tightens his grip on the bad in his hands. He kicks a pebble at the ground.

They start moving. Mori purposely leads them down a side street, opting to take the longer route to his apartment.

It isn't until they're a good distance from the crowds that Mori reopens the conversation.

“Chie,” he starts off with. “You know that Issei has feelings, right?”

Chie stares at him. Issei bares his teeth and glares at Mori.

“What the hell is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” Issei snaps, spit flying from his mouth.

Mori holds up a hand, signaling at Issei to wait. Riku winces at the offended expression on his teammate’s face.

“You already feel bad about what you said, don't you?” Mori says. “You know that Issei's background doesn't matter here.”

As one, the genin freeze. Chie's eyes are wide, halfway between shame and shock, and Issei is staring at Mori like he's never seen him before.

“I -- he -- it was,” Chie stammers out. She can't tear her eyes away from Mori's face, and her voice is hesitant and desperate all at once. “I wasn't -- I didn't  _ mean --” _

“That doesn't change what you said,” Mori tells her. “Issei growing up on the streets has nothing to do with his worth as a ninja.”

“You know?” Issei asks. “Riku, did you  _ tell  _ him?”

“I'm your sensei, of course I know,” Mori reminds him. Issei knows his way around the backstreets of Konoha. Issei is comfortable in a gambling den. Issei is highly defensive and always on guard.

He vaguely recalled this factoid from the files he had received back when he was getting ready to test this team: unknown father, prostitute mother. It wasn't really something that came up, though. Mori didn't think it would end up being an issue. “Why don't you want to apologize, Chie?”

“Because -- because he's a jerk!” Chie says, and even now her eyes are red and watery. Team Four pulls to a stop in the middle of an empty side street as words start spilling out of Chie’s mouth.

“He never apologizes for anything! He just spits on everything I do and it's never enough. All he does is make fun of me when I try!” Chie angrily wipes tears off of her cheeks. “Not all of us were born with perfect ninja brains or good aim or grew up in a dojo!”

She grits her teeth and glares at the ground. “It's -- it's the only thing,” she mumbles, and she winces at the admission.

Issei frowns at Chie. “The only thing?”

“It's the only thing I can lord over you, okay?” Chie snaps, but her voice is drained. Worn. Sincere. “I'm sorry, it's a really crappy thing to say. I know I suck, I know I'm useless, you don't have to remind me -- ugh, look. I'm sorry, okay?”

Issei just stares, his expression blank. Chie grits her teeth and starts walking, determinedly not looking at any of them.

Riku follows her. After a moment, Issei does, too.

Mori walks next to Issei. They follow Chie and Riku, only behind by a couple steps.

Mori thinks back to their first C-Rank, the original C-Rank. He remembers this, too -- him and Issei, rushing after Chie, worrying about their teammate.

_ We're a team, loudmouth. You don't have to be good at everything. _

Issei  _ does  _ care about Team Four. That’s why it hurts when Chie picks apart his past. When Riku gives him the cold shoulder. That’s why he’s angry -- because they matter to him.

“Issei,” Mori speaks up.

“I'm sorry, too,” Issei says, without any further prompting. He glares at the ground. “I shouldn't have said what I did. You do kinda suck… but you're not entirely useless.”

“Really?”

Issei scowls. “Yeah,” he mutters, not meeting her eyes. “You’re not useless.”

Chie scoffs. “I’m going to kick your butt when we get back to the training grounds later on.”

“You can try,” Issei tells her.

Riku lets out a relieved sigh and grins. The atmosphere is lighter, and he throws in his two cents. “Sparring sounds nice.”

Mori smiles. He waits until his apartment building is in sight before he decides to speak up.

“I probably would’ve chosen barbecue, but if you three all want to spar, I guess that’s what we’re doing for the day.”

His genin freeze.

“Wait!” Chie gasps out. “We want ice cream!”

Riku scrunches up his nose. “Tea?”

“Too bitter,” Chie says.

“Ice cream is too  _ sweet.” _

Issei only groans as his teammates start to argue about their tastes in food. Mori pats Issei’s head.

It's not perfect, but they all make it to the end of the day in one piece so Mori’s counting that as a win.

* * *

 

“And so the other shoe drops,” Kenji drawls.  _ “Finally. _ Nice to see that your ‘easy, breezy genin team’ isn't actually a trio of preteen saints.”

Mori rolls his eyes at his younger brother. Kenji only shrugs and swings his feet around.

Mori sneaks a concerned glance at him. The eighteen-year-old chews on his squid with a faraway look in his eyes.

Mori waits.

When he’d gotten back from training his genin team earlier, Kenji had already been standing and staring at his apartment door. Obviously, his little brother wanted something. But Mori hadn't been able to determine what.

So they ended up on the rooftops, sharing a bag of dried squid. Mori started the conversation by recounting the day’s adventures with his genin. Kenji snickers and laughs and rolls his eyes at all the right moments, and it’s almost like nothing is wrong except for the fact that Kenji’s smile kind of wavers as Mori goes on with his story.

“Kenji?” Mori prompts, after the tale is done and a few silent moments have passed. “You doing okay there?”

“Yeah,” Kenji replies, shaking his head and returning his focus to the conversation. “Just thinking.”

Mori leans back to rest on his elbows, opening up his posture. “What about?”

“Nothing,” Kenji says. “It's nothing.”

Mori lifts a skeptical eyebrow, and Kenji winces.

“Do you remember the Kyuubi?” His brother asks, after a pause.

Mori’s chest stings, and he grimaces. “I wish I didn't.”

“Ha ha,” Kenji says, but there's no humor in it. He stares out at Konoha, and when Mori follows his gaze, he’s a little surprised to see him eyeing the Academy roof by the Hokage Tower.

“Seriously Ken, what's wrong?” Mori presses.

“It's no--”

_ “Not _ nothing.”

Kenji groans and hugs his knees close to his chest. “It really is,” he mumbles. “I'm just being stupid.”

“How so?”

“I dunno, maybe I'm just seeing things,” Kenji sighs. “I think I'm being paranoid. God, I'm turning into you.”

Mori snorts. “Gee, thanks.”

They lapse into silence. The sun hangs low in the sky, and a cool breeze brushes by, ruffling Kenji’s hair around. Mori watches Kenji struggle with the words, attempting to voice whatever problem he’s having.

“Nii-san,” Kenji says. Again, his eyes are focused on the Academy rooftops. Mori waits.

Kenji picks at a roof tile, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration.

“Nii-san, what do you think about Uzumaki Naruto?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIKU, YOU HORSE'S ASS. YOU HORSE'S ASS.
> 
> Things that have happened since my last update: I'm legally an adult, I'm out of high school, and I legit spent an entire twenty-four hours doing nothing but replay some Assassin's Creed games, RIP. It's been exciting!
> 
> So my outline had been beautiful and contained appropriate detail up until this particular chapter. I had a single bullet point that said "idk some sort of conflict?? whatever", which was _entirely_ unhelpful and I regret everything. so I brought back the Issei incident that I had scrapped a while ago. ~~if~~ when I finish this fic someday, i'll probably go back and fix the previous chapters so there's more warning beforehand? ~~probably not lbr~~
> 
> fun fact: first draft had Issei playing poker, but I had to scrap that too when I realized that the other players could just force him to fold since he only has sixteen ryo, whoops. maybe I'll work in a poker scene later on as a tribute to that deleted scene.
> 
> thanks for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> The story title comes from the song, 'Ain't no Rest for the Wicked' by Cage the Elephant. Very catchy.


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